


The Lover's Appcove

by Mirabai0821



Series: 1000 Times And 1000 Times Again [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Character of Color, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), M/M, Online Dating, Phone Sex, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Talking, Texting, Trespasser Spoilers, emailing, i forgot how to tag things properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 49,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirabai0821/pseuds/Mirabai0821
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you tired of the app dating scene? Sick of swiping? Sick of getting fish and egged? Sick of meeting people who are all style and no substance? Well the Lover’s Appcove is the app you need. No pics, no vids, just pure connection. Use your computer or your phone. No need to worry about taking the perfect selfie, your matches are made using interests alone. No physical descriptions are allowed. Fall in love at first words rather than first sight. Now available on Gingerbread and Manzana platforms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lover's Appcove

Evelyn glared at Dorian. The _last_  thing she needed was another fucking dating app and she told him so.

“But B listen to me, no pictures. No one can even see what you look like. All you have to do is answer a couple of questions, fill out a profile and you’re done. You get matches sent to you and based on the prologue they write, you can choose to chat them up.”

She growled, making an impressive imitation of a revving motorcycle, her displeasure still evident.

Dorian sighed. “Look remember how I told you I met Iron Bull?”

“You said it was online.”

“Yes, it was this!”

“You met IB through this?”

“Of course, how else do you think a Tevene and a Qunari would have hooked up?”

“I figured it was just to piss off your dad.” Evelyn snarked, perhaps a bit too cruelly.

“Well that’s an added benefit.” Dorian admitted. “But you see how we are? You said yourself how insufferable we are.”

“Yes.”

“That’s because it _works_!”

“Yeah well what if it doesn’t work?” She stood from her living room couch upsetting the mabari dozing at her feet. “What if I meet this amazing person and after months of talking and ‘connecting’,” she punctuated the word with vicious air quotes. “We finally decide to meet, they see me and go…ehhh I’m sorry, even though you are emotionally and intellectually perfect, I’m just not into mudskins.”

Dorian winced, the slur always made him uncomfortable, worse when his best friend used it against herself.

“Sorora, if you do it right, that’ll never happen. When have I ever steered you wrong? Besides suggesting that your new apartment be located in fucking Lowtown?”

B snorted, giggling before pulling out her Milky Way 4S. “Alright. Let’s try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr account, decided this was going far enough to warrant its own space here. Enjoy!


	2. Profile

B sat at her computer, went through the requisite motions of making an account, verifying her email address, installing the software, updating it, privacy settings, Maker’s breath.

 _Name (this will not be posted):_  Evelyn  
_Birthdate_ : August 21 Technology 20:87

Blah, blah, blah.

After the basic metrics were taken, the questionnaire started asking the more important (and most importantly interesting) questions like “Are you a mabari person or a cat person?”

She asked the question out-loud as she contemplated the answer and Cousland, her mabari, growled, signalling his displeasure at her less than immediate answer.

“You knew what I was gonna say pup.”

He barked happily, wagging his stumpy little tail.

 _Coffee or Tea_ : “Tea usually, coffee at work.”

 _Steak or Veggies:_ “Steak.”

Cousland barked his agreement.

After those questions were answered, the questionnaire delved deeper, asking the hard hitting existential queries.

 _Do you believe in the existence of a soulmate? The more complex your answer, the better the match_ :

Now this gave Evelyn pause. She _wanted_ to believe in the concept of one soul being inexorably drawn towards another. Something constructed and concocted half-complete in order to be filled _perfectly_ by another oppositely crafted soul. There weren’t too many people who filled B at all let alone anything close to perfect.

But she wanted to believe someone out there would. She had to. It was the only way she’d be able to survive in a world where she had no family and barely any friends. Someone out there must love her, more than Dorian did or more than her brother, Alphonse, used to before he died.

She lingered on the memory of her brother, the idle thought enough to bring a few tears to her eyes. She wiped them away and began pecking at her answer.

“Like a sine wave, each person possesses an ethereal wavelength that others can clue into. Some are like tangents, maybe they work better as friends or co-workers but never as lovers, since they meet only once. Some are sin + 1, close enough to warrant deep and abiding connections that foster love and friendships that last eternites. Yet still, there are other’s who are so exquisitely crafted that they harmonize with your own wave, a perfect match. These are the rarest and only the luckiest ever find them.

I am, for lack of a better phrase, trying to get lucky.”

Evelyn giggled to herself and kept typing.

After about an hour of wine and serious thinking she was ready to post. Now for the two most important questions of the quiz.

_Choose a screen name:_

_Write a prologue (prologues are what people first read about you, make it interesting, make it grab the attention of a potential Connection):_

Cousland snored at her feet, his vigil at her side while she tried to construct this profile abandonded for chasing nugs in his dreams. Evelyn smiled, pet her dog with her foot, and finished.

 _Choose a screen name:_ “Andraste’s Favorite Mabari”

 _Write a prologue (prologues are what people first read about you, make it interesting, make it grab the attention of a potential Connection):_  

You know Andraste’s old mabari  
He don’t show up in the chant.  
And if you ask those holy sisters,  
Well, they’ll say Andraste can’t  
Have had some big old smelly wardog.  
But all Ferelden knows it right:  
Our sweet Lady needed someone  
Who would warm her feet at night.

Evelyn hit save and waited.


	3. Connections

It was late when she worked on her profile, and after she clicked on that ominous ‘save’ button she had to immediately prepare for bed. Tying up her hair, brushing her teeth, setting out tomorrow’s clothes. She flicked the TV on, needing the white noise of whatever late night personality was on at that moment to settle comfortably off to sleep. Evelyn used her phone as her alarm clock, she made sure it was set correctly and the sound was on (Maker knows how many times she’d been late to work because she forgot the damn thing was set to silent). She noticed a little blue button blinking in the bottom right hand corner of her phone screen, pulsing every other second.

“A message!” She squealed, startling the mabari from his slumber at her feet.

Temptation demanded she click the little balloon right now to read the message, but she ruled her desires and let the message sit, deciding it would be better to tackle in the morning.

That was a bad idea.

Evelyn could never be mistaken as a morning person. She hated waking, hated leaving the bed, hated showering to wash the sleep and the drool off her face. She hated dressing, hated applying the barest bit of makeup in order to not feel like a disgusting human being (and on the better days it made her feel like an _average_ human being instead of a disgusting one). Hated walking to the bus stop (really hated _running_ to the bus stop especially in the rain.) Everything about mornings, she hated. And it was usually around 9 or 10 in the morning when that vitriol burned away into something else, usually after that first mug of overly sugared and overly creamered coffee.

Firmly nestled in her daily hate of the hours between 2 am and 10 am, she decided to overcome her nervousness and click the little blue balloon that indicated the Lover’s Appcove had found a match.

_Hey bby, you sound hot. Describe urself._

Oh Maker.

To her surprise though, a log of messages had accumulated overnight.

_Wat u look like?_

_U sound hot._

_I studied math in college. I ttly feel your sin/cos description. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?_

_Greetings princess, my name is xymeloc585 and I need your help. I’m a student at Wycome University College and I need…_

Evelyn scanned the rest, found the obligatory link that would no doubt take her to some site that would possibly steal her credit card information, and promptly deleted the message.

“Maker’s ass really?” She mumbled to herself.

Throughout her morning bus ride to work, she thumbed through potential matches, reading their scant or at times non-existant prologues. Most only had links to other, picture bearing profiles, others were just basic breakdowns of their character and personality, something she could get if she read through their profiles. Nothing that grabbed the attention the way the app asked that a prologue should.

Still she tried to remain optimistic about it lest Dorian accuse her of not trying. One prologue seemed interesting enough, detailing time spent in Tevinter working on archaeological research.

 _Hi, so what were you studying in Tevinter?_ She hit send button on the in app messaging service before going back to fish for more.

Before she could find anymore her bus arrived at work requiring she act like a responsible adult for the rest of the day.

By the end of it, she was beat to hell and looking forward to a druffalo burger and several glasses of wine. She opened the app, looking for a response to her earlier message but found she had 19 more messages, all differing themes on the first few:

_Send me pics?_

_Unless you can name all the Elven pantheon from memory, don’t message me._

_Bby I’m so horny, message me?_

_Greetings. My time in Tevinter was spent researching the Imperium’s Old Gods, specifically Dumat the God of Silence._

“Hm,” Evelyn hummed to herself. “He answered. This one has potential.”

 _And what did you learn?_  According to his profile, TheConductorofSilence was really into Tevinter Old Gods and just about all things the Imperium. 

She put her phone away, mindful of its battery life. It’d be another 40 minutes before she got home and she didn’t want it to die in the middle of a potential conversation.

When she heard the phone buzz, she pulled it out again. Eager smile breaking across her face.

_I spent time excavating and translating ancient texts that pertained to the Old God. Would you like to read them?_

Evelyn grinned so hard her face hurt, she was history buff by hobby and by training.

_Please? I’m a sucker for translated ancient text._

The little typing graphic popped on her screen and Evelyn beat back the compulsion to press her face closer to the tiny glass screen. After a few more seconds of dancing ellipses a long message scrolled across her screen.

 

_Look upon the Temple of Dumat_

_God of Silence, who speaks to the faithful in dreams_

_No words of desire may sway His will_

_No cry of valor may stand against Him_

_For His Silence conquers all_

_And His Secrets are shared only with the worthy_

_Look upon the Temple of Dumat_

_And fear Him_   
  


_Wow. That’s beautiful._   
  


_That’s a 900 year old prayer to the Old Gods that once walked this earth. I think it deserves a little more reverence than just 'beautiful’._

Evelyn physically recoiled from her phone.

_A little harsh there don’t you think?_   
  


_No._   
  


_Okay, well, moving on then. I asked you a question. Why don’t you ask me one._   
  


There get far away from the subject of work, seems like a touchy guy.  
  


_How do you feel about elves?_   
  


_Uhh, am I supposed to feel something about them?_   
  


_Good, you aren’t one then._   
  


_If I was, would that be a problem?_   
  


_Definitely._   
  


_May I ask why?_   
  


_Because you’d be an elf._   
  


_That’s not really answering the question. Do you have something against elves?_   
  


_They’re filthy…_   
  


Evelyn hit the block button repeatedly. Then again just to make sure.

After that she hobbled along with the app. While she thankfully didn’t encounter anyone as venomous as TheConductorofSilence, her other matches were still less than stellar.

She was able to carry on conversations for a few days with a few Connections, tired, hackneyed correspondence punctuated with awkward 'lol’s and poor punctuation.

“So how’s it going?” Dorian asked after two weeks of installation.

Evelyn flipped through her matches, ignoring a message form Connection AntivanCrow985. He seemed like a nice guy but he was far far too  amorous for her tastes. And his word to emoticon ratio was skewed heavily in the wrong direction. It felt more like talking to someone in hieroglyphics than words.

“Its not going at all. I think I’m going to delete this.”

“You can’t delete it, you’ve barely tried!” Dorian hollered.

“Yeah but its more of the same old stuff. Most anyone I talk to wants pics right away. Those that don’t, want to engage in some sort of sexting. Which I’d be fine with if I, you know,  _got to know the person first._ ”

“You can’t expect it to work immediately.”

“I know.”

“Are you still going to delete it?”

“Probably.”

Dorian sighed. “Ahh well, I tried. Now when you die alone you can never say Dorian didn’t try to help you.”

Cousland growled at the house-guest.

“No she won’t die alone, mutt. At least she’ll have you. They have crazy cat husbands but do they have crazy mabari ladies? Folks who buy more dog food than people food?”

“I already buy more dog food than people food. He’s like a 200 pound dog, have you seen him eat?”

Cousland barked proudly, the noise rattled the windows.

“Well you’re already part way there then.”

Later, after suffering another day of unsolicited offers for pictures of men’s penises, her finger hovered over the 'uninstall’ button. She contemplated, dithered, weighed the pros and cons when she heard a little blip.

The blue orb that indicated a message popped up on her screen and she clicked it, anxious to read the words that would be the final nail in the coffin for this damned app on her phone.

_And there’s Andraste’s mabari_

_By the Holy Prophet’s side._  
In the fight against Tevinter,  
That dog would never hide.  
They say the Maker sent him special,  
Always loyal, without pride,  
So he could be the sworn companion  
Of the Maker’s Holy Bride.  
  
Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste  
Without arrogance or fear,  
Only asking of his mistress  
Just a scratch behind the ears.  
But then old Maf'rath gets to plotting,  
Tries to lure that dog away.  
But even as they trap the Prophet,  
Her mabari never strays.  
  
And there’s Andraste’s mabari  
By the Holy Prophet’s side.  
In the fight against Tevinter,  
That dog would never hide.  
They say the Maker sent him special,  
Always loyal, without pride,  
So he could be the sworn companion  
Of the Maker’s Holy Bride.  
  
Oh they thought the wounds had killed him,  
But then he limped out toward the fire.  
And Hessarian he shed a tear,  
As that dog laid on the pyre.  
  
And there’s Andraste’s mabari  
By the Holy Prophet’s side.  
In the fight against Tevinter,  
That dog would never hide.  
They say the Maker sent him special,  
Always loyal, without pride,  
So he could be the sworn companion  
Of the Maker’s Holy Bride.  
  
Yes that mabari’s the companion  
Of the Maker’s Holy Bride. 

 

The answer was long, taking up several bubbles that pop up one after the other. Whoever this was, AChantryMan, the name said, read the verse of her prologue and finished the song. Evelyn liked old folk songs like that, songs that told a story. She spent her college years researching the cultural significance of mabari outside of Ferelden, wrote her thesis on it. The song wasn’t very popular, not like a nursery rhyme or the like, so whoever this was, he knew his stuff.

Before she could commend him though, this AChantryMan sent another message.

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to flood your phone with that annoying beeping noise but I couldn’t resist the temptation._

_No need to apologize, I’m glad you didn’t resist the temptation. I love that song. Not too many people know it._

_I have a weakness for old Chantry songs._ _Did you know her?_

_Know who?_

_The Maker’s Bride. It says you’re Andraste’s Favorite Mabari so I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me._

_Depends on the questions._

_What do you think she looked like?_

Evelyn hummed thoughtfully before taking her thumbs to the screen again.

_Wouldn’t someone with the name AChantryMan already know something like that?_

_Not really, I mean there’s all the images of a pale lady with blonde hair but what if she was a brunette? A redhead?_

_What if she wasn’t pale after all?_

Evelyn waited. It was an innocuous question, really it was, but she was mightily invested in his answer.

_Exactly! How do we know the painters didn’t get it wrong? So, Ms. Mabari, can you shed some light on that for me?_

Evelyn backed out of her settings menu, leaving the app to live on her phone just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the format for the messaging is coherent.
> 
> Cullen’s sn totally did not come from Jidenna’s “A Classic Man” noo…not at all.


	4. A Chantry Man

Cullen Rutherford wasn’t the type you’d expect to find on a dating app with no pictures. To hear his friend Raleigh put it, “It’s insufferable really. You’re handsome as fuck, you sing like a fuckin’ rockstar, and you’re built like a brick shithouse. You don’t need no damn dating app, women should be crawling all over you.”

“They are Samson, that’s the problem.” 

“Sounds like no problem I ever heard of.” 

Cullen raked his hands down his face.

“The problem is, women look at me and see some…I don’t know Philliam Prince, but that’s as far as they get. They don’t care about having conversations about the collected works of Brother Genitivi. All they want to do is hop down my pants, no questions asked.”

“Right. Exactly. Still not seeing the problem.”

Cullen glared at his friend, swallowing down the last of his beer at the Hanged Man. Cullen just got off work and met his friend for weekday wind down. When Raleigh made a comment about his eyes being glued to his phone instead of the girls that kept sending him drinks, this conversation arose.

“I don’t want shallow hook ups Raleigh. I thought this app might help.”

“And? Has it.”

“No.”

“Well color me surprised. Why not?”

“It’s more of the same old conversations that don’t go anywhere meaningful. Nothing with spark. I mean there are a few girls here and there and I even went to meet one of them and…”

“Yeah?” Samson leaned forward, eager to hear something interesting for a change.

“She kept staring at my scar, it was all rather uncomfortable. I learned my lesson after that.”

“What lesson is that?”

“That I won’t agree to meet a girl until I’m absolutely sure I want to.”

“And what if you meet a horse?”

Cullen chuckled. “That’s not nice Raleigh.”

“That wasn’t an answer Cullen.”

“If we had some sort of connection, I don’t think it would matter what she looked like.” Cullen answered earnestly. 

Samson started laughing, loud and uproarious, it started to attract attention. “You really are a Philliam Prince. Maker help you. Well since you insist on being a complete tosser, I’m going to go chat up the girls you paid no mind to. For what it’s worth though, I wish you luck.”

Samson sidled down the bar, grinning manically at the two women who paid for the drinks the men just finished. Cullen rolled his eyes, rubbed the back of his neck, and went back to his phone.

Name: _Andraste’s Favorite Mabari_

Prologue:

 _You know_ _Andraste_ _’s old_ _mabari_ _.  
He don’t show up in the chant.  
And if you ask those holy sisters,  
Well, they’ll say Andraste can’t  
Have had some big old smelly wardog.  
But all Ferelden_ _knows it right:_  
Our sweet Lady needed someone  
Who would warm her feet at night. 

Cullen grinned, recognizing the first verse of an old song his mother used to sing to him. It was Ferelden, like he was, but he also knew this song, in the older Ages, was sung throughout Thedas. He wondered if this Mabari woman knew that? He thought to tell her so, but didn’t want to seem condesceding, so instead he opted to finish the song.

After that typing marathon, in which he better learned his device’s swipe to text function, Cullen felt foolish. He just flooded some poor girl’s inbox with a slew of messages that probably didn’t make any sense. Embarassed, he apologized immediately.

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to flood your phone with that annoying beeping noise but I couldn’t resist the temptation._

_No need to apologize, I’m glad you didn’t resist the temptation. I love that song. Not too many people know it._

She didn’t seem to mind. Good. Very good. He liked this girl far better than anyone he’d talked to so far and he was the one doing most of the talking. But anyone who liked “Andraste’s Mabari” couldn’t be too bad in Cullen ‘AChantryMan’ Rutherford’s book.

_Did you know her?_

Oh, smooth Rutherford, it was probably the beer that made him type that asinine question before his mind could overrule it.

When she asked for clarification, he sighed and ordered another drink, “In for a copper, in for a royal.”

She kept up with him when he teased her, the drink making him far bolder than he would have liked. He’ll probably say something to make an ass of himself and he’ll likely find himself blocked in the morning, but her company, Ms Mabari, was a damn sight better than anyone else in this dingy dive so he went with it. Indulging her with his pet theories on what the Blessed Lady might look like.

_What if she wasn’t pale after all?_

Cullen hadn’t thought of that, raised with the more traditional interpretations of Andraste’s physical form. But, if she could be a brunette, why couldn’t she be brown? Cullen remembered visiting one of his childhood friends, Delrin, at his house once. He remembered seeing pictures of the Blessed Lady on the wall, as brown as the chocolate treats his grandmother gave them before shooing them away to go play. He snickered at the plesant memory before typing his answer.

_Exactly! How do we know the painters didn’t get it wrong? So, Ms. Mabari, can you shed some light on that for me?_

He received a quick, instantaneous answer, a little emoticon, the one with the open mouth laughter and the tears leaking from the eyes.

The laughing icon made him laugh before he tamped down on it, glancing furtively from side to side to see if anyone saw his outburst. Nobody paid him any attention, but Cullen paid his tab and left the bar, eager to carry on this conversation in private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Mama Barris got a picture of Black Andraste on her wall right next to Martin Luther Shartan Jr.
> 
> This is my new H/C. FIGHT ME I DARE YOU.
> 
> S/O to my tumblr fellow conspiracy theorist divadevi8808 for that bit of Samson dialogue. :)


	5. Ms. Mabari and Mr. Chantry

The last message exchanged between them was her laughing emote, but Mr. Chantry (his new name considering he already named her Ms. Mabari) did ask her a question so according to app etiquette, the ball was in her court and her’s would be the next message to send.   

She wanted to be thoughtful, but not stuffy, funny but not crude. How then, should she answer his question? Evelyn gulped another swallow of wine right from the bottle (she didn’t have time for wine glasses and drinking wine out of a coffee mug only served to needlessly dirty a dish) and started working on her answer. 

His phone beeped as he walked home, to a third floor walk up apartment perched above a Rivani takeout restaurant. Kirkwall’s summer extended far into the fall months, severely irking Cullen who was an autumn man through and through. He hated the oppressiveness of the summer sun, sweaty memories of basic training serving to spoil his enjoyment of the hot weather. He ignored the message for now, choosing instead to read it when he could devote his full attention to it. 

He threw his keys on their designated hook, drew the security chain across the door, and booted up his laptop. Something in the apartment stank, something foul like rotting meat. Cullen pulled the windows open to let some of that smell out before finding the culprit—discarded pork chop bones from yesterday’s dinner. Cursing the inconvenience, he slipped his shoes back on, gathered up the garbage in his kitchen and bathroom and removed it from the apartment.   
By the time he returned, his laptop was ready and waiting, a new message indicator buzzing in time with the buzzing in his pocket. 

Cullen sat on his couch, put the laptop in his lap, and clicked the message.   
_Well considering I’m a mabari and therefore colorblind I have no idea what she might have looked like with regard to hair or eye or skin color. However, I do know that she was a very nice, very pretty lady. Liberal with the ear scratches and the puppy treats. I think we should look at her the way her mabari might, without regard for the physical and more regard for the things that mattered._   
_Like ear scratches._    

Cullen burst into gales of laughter, doubling over, almost knocking his laptop to the floor. Thankful he could send messages via the desktop app, he began typing his response. 

 _So I_ have _found a talking dog?!_

 _Woof woof!_   
  
He snickered again, feeling warmth in his cheeks and ears and in his chest. Since he started this grand experiment, no one had made him laugh this way, or make him await so eagerly the little beep that indicated a new message.   
  
_No, but speaking truthfully here, that was a good answer. I like that. I think the Lady would want us to see Her that way._   
  
_You speak like a devout Andrastian.  
_   
_My parents raised me in the Chantry. How about you?_   
  
_My parents are very religious, something of theirs I did not inherit._   
  
_Not for you?_   
  
_Eh. To put it bluntly I believe when it’s convenient to believe. Like when I’m having an ‘oh s***’ moment._   
  
_Those happen often?_   
  
_Maybe._   
  
_Didn’t know the life of Andraste’s Favorite Mabari was so stressful._     
  
_Oh you know, chewing on Tevinters, pooping in Maferath’s shoes._   
  
This time Cullen sent an emote. The destop app had a far wider selection consisting of animal themed emotes. He picked the one of the laughing dog and hit 'send.’   
  
Evelyn squealed at the cute animation of a laughing puppy, noise loud enough to draw a curious, cocked head look from her own favorite mabari.   
  
“Shut up pup.” She crinkled her nose and went back to her conversation. The night waned, growing later with every message. After each one she insisted she’d call it a night but Mr. Chantry was just so fun to talk too, she couldn’t put her phone down.   
  
Until her phone forced her to put it down. The little notification of impending shut down sent her scrambling for her charge cord, finding it hooked into her computer. She plugged her phone in, knocked the mouse, and the screen lit up revealing her desktop and the app, blinking with another message.   
  
_Is it late where you are?_   
  
_Yeah actually, nearing 11 p.m._   
  
_Really? Me too._ Cullen’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, another more intimate question poised on the tips of his fingers. He knew he was matched with connections that were within 100 or so miles (a radius he expanded from 20 when he realized he might continually run into the people he met offline and didn’t want that kind of awkwardness in his life.) He wanted to ask where she was, but at the same time was afraid of knowing.   
  
What if she was too far.   
  
What if she was too _close._   
  
Realizing he was leaving her hanging with the typing ellipses still swirling whenever he had an active cursor in the text bar, he finished his thought.   
  
_Really? Me too. Where are you?_   
  
Evelyn plugged her headphones into the audio jack of her speakers, turned on some music and waited for a response. She violently ripped the earbuds out when she read his question.   
  
Oh Maker. Was she ready to commit to that level of detail yet? They managed to only talk about religion and a mutual love for mabari but revealing where she lived might be a jump she wasn’t quite ready to make. They did live in the same timezone but Free March Daylight Time encompassed everything from Wycome to Tantervale. He could be anywhere.   
  
Or he could be upstairs. 

The thought made her giddy, dizzy with possibilities.   
  
“Nothing ventured pup, nothing gained.”   
  
_Kirkwall._   
  
Cullen felt the flush in his cheeks, attributable to nothing but sheer excitement since the alcohol had long burned away. She lived in the same city. She could be anywhere, she could have met him already, could have passed him in the street. He might run into her tomorrow when he went for coffee and he’d never know it.   
  
_Wow, would it upset you to know that I’m in Kirkwall too?_   
  
Evelyn fell to the side, hanging out of her chair, huge and most likely unflattering smile on her face.   
  
_No. Why would it upset me?_   
  
_I don’t want you to think I want to see you or something._   
  
“Oh damnit Rutherford!” Cullen cursed. He started frantically typing to explain himself before she could hit the block button.   
  
_Wait, that came out wrong. I don’t want you to think I’m eager to see…_   
  
Delete.   
  
_Wait, that came out wrong. I don’t want you to feel pressured into seeing me so soon. I’m not asking to meet up._   
  
Maker, did that make him sound like an utter fool?   
  
His hand slipped.   

Enter hit.   
  
The message flitted away from him.   
  
Cullen winced, closing his eyes, preparing for…well there was no digital indication he’d been blocked except eternal silence from the woman who called herself Andraste’s Favorite Mabari. Still, he flinched, expecting some kind of retort.   
  
_Oh good, phew, thanks for explaining. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me._   
  
Not that one.   
  
Raleigh liked to tell him he thought too much, that he took five minutes to decide something that should only take two. Cullen felt the urge to analyze the message as he felt the urge to analyze everything. Break it down into component pieces, pouring over them for context and tone.   
  
But his heart didn’t let him. Rather than get woefully hung up on the last half of the message, trying to guess what she meant by ’ _you didn’t like me_ ’ his heart took over his fingers and answered for him.   
  
_You, Ms. Mabari, oh no, I like you very much._


	6. Someone Special

Evelyn regretted that she had no nearby pillows, so, in order to avoid a noise complaint, she rose from her computer chair and buried her face in the couch cushions and screamed.   
  
And Evelyn, she had a set a pipes, it was required for her job of wrangling 13 to 17 year olds. Girl could get _loud._ Thankfully her couch absorbed most of that volume. The muscles in her face strained, her skin flooded with heat, and she felt over-warm in the already warm apartment. A simple confession from a stranger and she acted like the world just ended…or rather began. Ruling her silliness, Evelyn worked on formulating a response that didn’t sound like the message equivalent of formless, tittering babble. 

_I think I…._    

Delete.    
  
 _That’s a relief because I really…_   
  
Delete.  
  
“Pup! What do I say?”   
  
Cousland looked her, barked singly, and rested his massive head on her toes.  
     
“That’s not an answer!”   
  
Cullen waited, nerves eating away at him with each second that passed. Letting his heart do the typing now felt like a bad idea considering the message typing ellipses started a few seconds ago and hasn’t stopped.   
  
“She doesn’t like you like that Rutherford, how could she, you’ve barely spoken for,” he looked at his watch and blanched when he saw the time. It was nearing 12:30, he started messaging this woman over 4 hours ago and if he didn’t get to bed soon, his day tomorrow would be shot. He groaned and waited another minute. When no message popped he sprinted to the bathroom, turned the water on, and started brushing his teeth.   
  
He came back, leaned over to where the laptop lay open and dripped toothpaste foam on the couch—still no message. Groaning louder and harder, he wiped away the minty foam, went back to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth so hard and fast his gums started to bleed a little bit. Cullen apologized outloud to his dentist and went back to the computer.   
  
No message.   
  
“Shit!”   
  
Now he was getting worried.   
  
Evelyn started typing, hated it, deleted it, started again, hated it again, deleted it again.   
  
“Why is this so hard!”   
  
Cousland whined sympathetically, a sort of a doggy ‘don’t ask me’ gesture.

She glanced at the clock.   
  
“Shit it’s late!”   
  
Living single in Kirkwall, she hadn’t a use for the breakfast nook so that became her mini office. She ate her meals either on the couch in front of the TV or at the large counter overhang perched on one of the two barstools. She left her computer, deliberately leaving the cursor in the text box so Mr. Chantry would think she’s still formulating a response. Evelyn tore across her closet removing the jeans, blouse, and boots she’d wear for tomorrow and turned the shower on. The pipes in this ancient building nestled in the middle of other more ancient buildings, required a little bit of time before the hot water could get going.   
  
She dashed back across her apartment, running on her tiptoes (again, noise complaint) and sat back at her computer _still_ unable to think of anything to say.   
    
Just type something, just say something!   
  
_Sorry for the late reply, my favorite mabari keep bugging me for a treat._   
  
Send.   
  
Cousland, sensing he had been made a scapegoat, growled his displeasure.   
  
_But returning to what you said, Mr. Chantry, I think I like you too. I mean in the weeks I’ve had this app I’ve never stayed up so late past my bedtime. Not that I have an actual bedtime, I am an adult here. I promise. Wait, that sounds exactly like something someone underage would say. I am NOT underage. I’m 27. Oh Maker, I sound really silly don’t I?_   
  
Cullen took the quickest shower of his life, tearing at his hair with his fingernails as he washed, barely rinsing the soap out. His scalp tingled, and he was sure the back of his neck still had bits of soapy foam clinging to it. Wiping away the soap and the concern with his towel, and throwing an old tee-shirt and athletic shorts over a body still damp, Cullen returned to his laptop and found a message.   
  
_But returning to what you said, Mr. Chantry, I think I like you too. I mean in the weeks I’ve had this app I’ve never stayed up so late past my bedtime. Not that I have an actual bedtime, I am an adult here. I promise. Wait, that sounds exactly like something someone underaged would say. I am NOT underage. I’m 27. Oh Maker, I sound really silly don’t I?_   
  
Cullen sighed dreamily, sinking into his armchair, an heirloom passed from grandfather, to father, to oldest son—the most comfortable chair the Maker ever made. It was a hug made of foam and wood and fabric with its large cushions, ugly and overstuffed. He let comfortable and familiar texture of the furniture envelop him, if she kept talking to him like this, he’d likely fall sleep here and he didn’t mind it in the slightest.   
  
_You don’t sound silly, you sound amazing._   
  
Oh, damn, heart getting away from him again.   
  
She packed her lunch; salad, tuna sandwich, her favorite brand of kettle chips and pineapple. She packed extra fruit knowing some of the kids she worked with would ask her for some, having never seen a pineapple fresh, only the neon yellow chunks that come with the free lunch program. She packed an extra sandwich too, there was always one (more than) who was still hungry.   
  
She let the shower run too long, and after filling the bathroom with steam, the mist traveled to fill the other empty spaces looking like smoke and smelling like calcium. Evelyn cursed and stripped, showering criminally quickly, her feet and the back of her legs barely feeling either the soap or the water.   
  
Uncaring of modesty, (and it didn’t matter if she was talking to Mr. Chantry or not, Evelyn did not care a whit about what people could see as she was in her own place) she walked naked and wet back to her computer, placing the towel down on the chair.   
  
Good thing too because it was wood, her ass was wet, and after she read the message—if her ass had no traction, she would have slipped right off the chair.   
Maker this guy! Saying all the right things in all the right ways, he typed like he had some sense, had good taste in animals and music. He was too good to be true.   
  
_Thank you. I’m nothing special though._   
  
No. Delete. Don’t do that, it’ll sound like you’re fishing for compliments (you are but you can’t be obvious).  
    
 _Thank you, you sound pretty swell yourself._   
  
DELETE! _Swell?_ Really? What is this Space 15:01?   
  
_Thank you._   
  
_You’re Welcome.  
_   
_Not sleep yet?_   
  
_You haven’t said goodnight.  
_   
_I don’t want to._   
  
_I don’t either._   
  
_But we should right, part of being responsible adults.  
_ _._   
_._   
_._   
_._   
_Mr. Chantry? Still there?_   
  
_Oh! I’m so sorry, I dozed. Really comfortable chair. You’re not boring me. I promise._   
_  
I’m not boring you, no, I’m putting you to sleep. That’s worse than boring._   
_  
You’d never bore me Ms. Mabari._   
_  
You go on about me being amazing and you say stuff like that. You must really not want me to sleep tonight._   
_  
Truthfully, I’m not too keen on sleeping myself._   
_  
Ok, make you a deal. 20 more minutes, talk about whatever we want. Then we have to go to bed._   
_  
Deal._   
_  
Favorite food?_   
_  
Ferelden goulash. Favorite color?_   
_  
Gold, burnt orange, other fall colors._   
_  
Fond of fall?_   
_  
Yes, very. You?_   
_  
It’s my favorite season._   
_  
Wanna know my favorite thing about fall?_   
_  
You mean besides the blessedly cool temperatures. And sweaters._   
_  
The trees. Yeah, it’s Kirkwall so it’s all concrete jungle and urban blight but if you go to Grand Cathedral Park. On a day when the sky is clear and the wind is cold and there’s a vendor that sells spiced apple cider and apple donuts. That’s a perfect moment. You have anything like that Mr. Chantry?_   
_  
There’s a lake in Ferelden, Lake Calenhad. On a map it kinda looks like a bunny. I’m not fond of summer days, but summer nights, walking along that lake, shoes off, toes in the water. Nothing but crickets and the sound of water and…you._   
  
Delete.   
_  
Nothing but crickets and the sound of water and…someone special._   
_  
That sounds wonderful._   
_  
Not as good as your apple donuts._   
_  
Times up Mr. Chantry._   
_  
Time was up 40 minutes ago Ms. Mabari._   
_  
I know. I hope… I hope that I can talk to you tomorrow._   
_  
I hope so too. Goodnight Ms. Mabari._   
__  
Sweet dreams Mr. Chantry.  
  
 **Andraste’s Favorite Mabari is offline.**    
  
Cullen closed his laptop, closed his eyes, and fell asleep in his chair. 


	7. That Which We Call A Mabari By Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore my lack of remembering the age stands for the CENTURY not the decade. Apparently, Thedas discovered spaceflight 400 years ago instead of 50. Makes everything funnier. I've cleaned it up in later chapters. Internal consistency is HARD okay?

She felt the phone buzz for the seventh time that day, spattered in horse manure from the knees down, brushing down a gelding, preparing him for riding practice. Upon waking, she sent him a message, not bothering to pause and take stock that he was the first thing on her mind that morning. She indicated her impending busy day and her inability to respond to his messages in a timely fashion.

_Good morning Mr. Chantry. I hope you slept well. I’m going to be very busy for most of the day so I’m sorry if I’m not chatty. I promise when I get home to give every message you may send me the attention it deserves. I hope, in whatever you do, you have a good day._

_Woof,  
Ms. Mabari_

Apparently, that hadn’t dissuaded him from flooding her inbox with Maker knows what since 9 a.m. this morning. Every time she felt the phone buzz in her pocket, her heart beat faster and her face grew warmer until she was nearly burning alive by midday.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to be covered in shit.”

Evelyn’s smile soured, Ms. Stannard, Principle of Gallows Circle High, one of the low income schools Evelyn visited as a part of her job.

“I’m paid well enough to suffer.”

Ms. Stannard scoffed. “The children are waiting, try not to keep them loitering for too long.”

“It’s an after school program, they’re gonna hang out after school.” Evelyn shot back.

“Easy there Evelyn,” Mr. Blackwall gruffed, his salt and pepper beard obscuring half of the words he said. “She pays our bills remember.”

“My budget pays your bills Mr. Blackwal, Ms. Trevelyan, and it’s thin enough as it is.”

Stannard excused herself, leaving in a huff, while Evelyn gave the finger to her departing back.  
  
“Stop that you, we don’t need to give her a reason to hate us more.”

“She has no reason to hate us! We’re doing good for her students!”

And they were. Mr. Blackwall was the CEO and head volunteer of a non-profit designed to foster responsibility, scholarship, and reward through activities like archery and horseback riding. Kids who’d never seen a horse in the flesh, got to ride them. Students who saw archery only in movies and read them in fairy-tales got to shoot a bow. Evelyn instructed both equestrian and archery lessons. Blackwall instructed students on how to wield sword and shield, while Sera focused specifically on archery. Gallows Circle, being the biggest school in the program, paid the biggest chunk of their operating costs. Yet its principal, Meredith Stannard, was increasingly unwilling to partition her budget anymore for them, preferring to spend the money on increased security measures like more guards and metal detectors.

It was true, that section of Kirkwall was bloody and violent. Gangs, drugs, derelict housing, poor social services, and the stigma of racial and economic discrimination against elves, qunari, and humans that didn’t quite fit the aesthetic all worked in tandem to run this part of Kirkwall into the sea. The shit when people talk about Kirkwall being a shithole. But the kids, who already had so little, didn’t need more taken away from them. It was likely that come the budget review this winter, they’d be kicked out of Gallows Circle and without that money, the Grey Warden Urban Riding Club would founder.

“Here, let me take that geld.” Mr. Blackwall took the reins from Evelyn. “I know you’re upset, but have a little faith. I don’t believe Meredith will shut us down. She’ll have a hard time explaining the drop in attendance and grades to the board.”

Blackwall lead Jackson out of the mobile trailer and into the crowd of kids more eager to pet the animal than ride it. Evelyn flopped down on a footstool, and fished for her phone, hoping some of Mr. Chantry’s messages contained a pick-me-up or two.

_Good Morning Ms. Mabari,_

_Wow, 5 am, you rise early. And you thought to send me a message instead of grab the nearest cup of coffee? I’m flattered. I’m useless in the morning without one cup… or five. And if I’m being honest it took a bit of liquid courage to even message you at all after last night._

_I mean, not that kind of liquid courage, Maker’s breath, I’m not an alcoholic. :)  
_

_I wonder what you do that causes you to rise so early?_  
  
I did sleep well if a little unorthodox. I have this big chair my father gave me. I was sitting in it while we were chatting last night and after you signed off, I dozed off before I could summon the strength to head to bed.

There was a two hour gap between the last message and the next.

 _Maker’s breath, I’m bored. I was tempted to pick up a book and start reading but I saw my phone and I thought of you. I’m reading_ A History of Tevinter. A _ctually, I’m cheating, I’m listening to a podcast that discusses the book_ A History of Tevinter _. It’s quite fascinating. Do you have anything you do when you get so unutterably bored?_

Another gap, thirty minutes.

_Lunchtime—they have_

“Whatcha reading?”

“Aah!! Andraste’s flaming knickers!” Evelyn screamed, feeling a bit of her soul leave her body with the fright.

“Hahaha! You always scare so easily.”

“I was focused.”

“Yeah on?”

“Nonaya damn business!”

“Ohh, means it’s a boy or a girl, I neva asked your type, just figured I wasn’t.”

“You’re not.”

“Shits.”

“I still like you Sera, as a friend.”

While Sera pouted, another message blipped. Evelyn’s grin got away from her confirming Sera’s suspicions.

“Well whateva it is, it’s gotta wait. The little ‘uns are waitin’.”

“Okay okay, just one more okay.”

_Lunchtime—they have pizza and salad. Again. Whenever my office orders food, it’s always pizza and salad from the same place. I’m not complaining too loudly, it is free food, but I wish there’d be more variety. Like apple donuts. That’s not entirely healthy, I know. But I have a bit of a sweet tooth. Now I’m craving apple donuts. I hope fall comes soon._

The latest message, sent just a second ago.

_Maker! Seven messages in as many hours! I hope I’m not being bothersome. I just can’t wait to talk to you again._

Evelyn began pecking a short and sweet response.

“C’mon Quizzie!!!”

“Yaaah!”

_Oh, no, never. Nothing you can send me would be bothersome unless you started sending me your messages letter by letter. I’m really looking forward to talking to you too99ri4qrkelw_

* * *

He knew better this time. He ate, showered, and brushed hist teeth before he sat down to talk to her, knowing when he got started it would be hard to stop.

He had several messages blinking on his laptop, waiting for him when he booted up the computer app.

_Maker! I’m sorry about that last message. My friend from work startled me and my finger slipped. I just got home. Dog’s walked, fed and watered. I’m walked, fed, and watered. Give me a few moments and I’ll respond to each of your messages from earlier._

_Yeah, I have to get up early. I have to get to some of the schools I work at when they start. And before that, I have to prep the horses and the bows and that takes a while, hence the early morning._

_Sorry for the early message. You were first on my mind and I wanted to send you something to make sure you didn’t think I was ignoring you for the day._

Cullen warmed at the words. ‘You were first on my mind.’ Maker. He grinned, humming into his mug, spilling some tea on his sleep shirt because his mouth was half open in a wide smile.

I _’m not really a coffee drinker myself. I prefer chai teas or even better, dirty chai lattes. That way you get the boost of coffee without the taste. Coffee does help combat the aftereffects of late nights, though. It definitely helped today. You kept me up late and even after it was hard to fall asleep because, to be honest, I couldn’t stop thinking about lakes and moonlit strolls._

_Ha, ‘liquid courage’ don’t worry I knew what you meant. Hopefully you didn’t mean Starkhaven coffee, now that’d earn you the title of alcoholic. :)_

_I work for a non-profit teaching disadvantaged kids how to ride horses and shoot bows and arrows. I also tutor them in class from time to time. The kids enjoy it and it gives them something productive to do and be a part of so they don’t get caught up in the streets selling red lyrium or elfweed._

_Your chair sounds comfortable. I don’t sleep in my bed much, I prefer my couch oddly enough. Maybe it’s because it’s kinda big and I feel  lonely in there all by myself._

_Oh Maker, that sounds way too propositional, (and pathetic) like something from a cheesy romance story. Forget I said that. Please._

_Shame on you Mr. Chantry. Forgoing work to send me a message._ A History of Tevinter _eh? Sounds interesting, I enjoy podcasts when I’m riding to and from work and at the gym, something to listen to to take my mind off the time. Between my work friend Sera and the kids I work with, (and honestly they’re one and the same), there’s never a boring moment. But sometimes when I’m at home, I’ll talk to the dog or browse the internet for interesting things._

 _I had half a tuna sandwich for lunch_.

Looking at the time stamp that last message was sent 15 minutes ago. The status indicator for Andraste’s Favorite Mabari was written with a green ‘active’ header so Cullen began typing a message.

_Only half a tuna sandwich? I didn’t know mabari’s liked fish._

Evelyn was rubbing her dog with her feet when the new message indicator flashed at the bottom of her screen. She clicked the button and the little window popped, displaying the message.

_I had more food, gave it away. The kids, some of them have to walk their siblings home from the half-day daycare across the street so they miss lunch._

_That’s incredible. What you do for the children. It sounds really interesting too. I’d have paid a lot more attention in school if I got to look forward to horseback riding and archery lessons after._

_And that’s why we’re there. My kids, they’re so excited when they pass a quiz or get perfect attendance marks because it means they can spend more time with Jackson or White Luck (our horses).  Kids have to maintain decent grades to remain a part of the program, though, do you promise to keep a secret?_

_For you, of course._  
  
 _I’m kinda less strict about those things than I should be. Mr. Blackwall (my boss and the CEO of the program) has a zero tolerance policy. Sera, oddly enough, does too. Me, I fudge it all the time, give ‘em a peek at a full tilt gallop on Jackson (and he can run) and when they beg for more I tell them to bring me back a better grade. Doesn’t work all the time. But sometimes.  
_  
 _That’s amazing, you’re truly wonderful. You do wonderful things._  
  
Far better things than I do, Cullen thought sadly for a moment.  
  
 _I bet you do wonderful things too Mr. Chantry. What are they?  
  
I work for the government. Boring stuff, hence why I’m bored.  
_  
It wasn’t a lie, not the whole truth, but not a lie. She didn’t need to know, not yet, not ever if the Maker was kind.  
  
 _Ahh, sit at a desk all day, digital paper pushing? Pining for apple donuts?  
  
Yes and yes. I’m going to get one of those. First apple donut I find, I’m going to get one, eat one, and think of you.  
  
You’re so sweet.  
  
No, you’re the sweet one, riding on your horse, helping children. I can’t imagine why…  
Wait, I’m sorry. Forget I typed that.   
  
What? You can tell me.  
  
I was just typing without thinking. What I mean to say is, I can’t imagine why someone like you would be alone in your bed at night.  
_  
Evelyn sighed, smiling softly. He really was a sweetheart.  
  
 _Same reason why you’re here too I guess. Right? I just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn’t get too hung up on what I look like. And let me tell you, you’re a real breath of fresh air as you’re the first and only guy who hasn’t asked to see my face or my boobs yet.  
  
A) That’s disgusting. Not your boobs I mean._  
  
Delete.  
  
 _A) That’s disrespectful. B) I’m sorry you had to experience that. C) I know it doesn’t help but that’s the exact reason why I’m here too. No way to judge me on my appearance if you don’t know what I look like._  
  
She let the cursor blink in the text box for a full minute staring at his message. Emotions tumbled and turned in her head, twisting up and knotting until one single thread of thought came out the other side of the chaos. ‘I don’t want to know your face,’ she thought. ‘I want to know _more_ than your face.’  
  
 _Well, since we don’t want to know what we look like, how about this. Would you like to put a name with a not-face?  
_  
Cullen paused, mid type. He liked calling her Ms. Mabari. He liked the image in his head of a typing dog, silly as it was.   
  
It made him smile. She made him smile. Knowing her name wouldn’t take away from his silly day dreams, it could only enhance them. He was getting to know her, the woman inside the dog. And she was remarkable.  
  
 _Maker’s Breath yes._  
  
Evelyn smiled, her fingers began to shake she was so excited. She typed the letters one by one, pointer finger by pointer finger like a person who never learned to type with their full hand. (Like Mr. Blackwall).   
  
E   
V   
E   
L  
Y   
N  
Enter.

 _Evelyn.  
_  
She waited for his response, actually closing her eyes so she could make a bit of a production out of the revelation of his name. When she heard the beep, she was a little surprised at what she saw.  
  
 _Before I ‘show you mine’ as it were, I have a question. Can I still call you Ms. Mabari? I’ll confess I’ve grown rather fond of the name. I enjoy the look on people’s faces when they ask me ‘Who are you talking to?’ and I say ‘Oh, a mabari. Andraste’s favorite.’_

Evelyn cocked her head back and laughed loud and hard, side aching, tear leaking laughter, something she felt she hadn’t done in an age.

 _You can call me whatever you like. I’m just glad_ you _are calling_ me _anything at all Mr. Chantry. Now quit leaving me hanging, tease.  
_  
Cullen chuckled.  
  
 _In that case, it is wonderful to meet you Evelyn._  
My name is Cullen.


	8. Drunk Texting

They talked incessantly over the coming weeks, always making time for each other in little snippets during the day, and the hours between 8 and 12 during the night was wholly given over to their conversations. Within that time they learned the basics of each other, family, music, friends, history. 

Cullen studied English at Kinloch University. 

Evelyn studied History at Ostwick College. 

Both were in their late twenties. 

Both had previous relationships before that ended poorly that both would rather not discuss. And both felt an acute sense of longing to comfort the other as the sad story unraveled. 

Both lived alone. 

Evelyn had family in Ostwick.   
  
Cullen in the South Reach. 

Both were not particularly close with their relatives for differing reasons. 

Cullen drove. 

Evelyn took the bus.

Cullen wore a size 10 shoe. 

Evelyn a size 9 ½ in womens. 

She enjoyed dancing. 

He did not. 

But there was an internal caveat that he would, for her, give it a try.

Kirkwall’s late summer finally broke and fall’s cool scent blew in from the sea. Evelyn grew sullen, the children she worked with were slipping in their grades. One of her favorite students suddenly started to hate her, only on the whims of puberty and peer perception. Jackson, her favorite horse, was ill. Sera was annoying. Everything seemed to set her off and Cullen noticed immediately.

 _Are you alright Evelyn? You seem distant tonight._  

 _I’m ssory, i’m kinda upset a bit. may have been dRinking. Please, dont think less of me._  

 _Never. Why are you upset?_  

 _Im worried. Our biggest school may cut our funding, wich would put ous out of business and me out of a job. Not to many people wanna hire the archer lady.  
_ _  
Evelyn, if there’s anything I can do. Please let me know._   
_  
Awww, that’s so nice you._   
_  
Anything for a friend._   
  
Delete.   
  
Cullen knew he’d be devastated if Evelyn called him a ‘friend’. She was more, he wanted her to be more. She was Ms. Mabari, firmly rooted in his heart and far outside the realm of 'friend’. He counted on speaking with her every night, and every night she was there. Even when she was sick and typing once every five minutes curled up in a ball on her couch, she was there.   
  
He insisted she go to bed but she told him she took medicine and the only other thing she needed to recover was her 'nightcap with Cullen.’   
  
He told her the phrase 'nightcap with Cullen’ sounded like a sordid Civil 17:01 porno.   
  
She giggled, typing 'ahahahahah’ over and over again and Cullen burned with the curiosity to know the key of her laughter.   
_  
Anything for you._   
  
Delete.   
  
That sounded too much like a confession he wasn’t sure he should be making. They confided in each other about past relationships, the little things that drove them to seek company on a faceless dating app. He once had a girlfriend who rushed too far into things and she once had a boyfriend who was far too pushy and demanding.   
  
Whatever he had with her needed to be perfect. Saying that, confessing that level of emotion for her was too much, he felt, for both of them.   
_  
I only want to help. Tell me about the problem. Maybe I can offer advice?  
_     
There, that was better. Sanitized and devoid of the feelings he wanted to share, nevertheless it would have to do.   
_  
The only way you could help, MR. Chantry, is by coming up with with truckloads of royals so we can keep afloat._   
_  
Would you like to go on a bank heist?_   
_  
Makers breathe! The chantry boy, advocating a bank heist. Andraste would not be pleased._   
_  
And how does her mabari feel about it?_   
_  
I do the shooting. You drive the car._   
_  
Oh no, I do the shooting._   
_  
I’m the archer!_   
_  
Well, we’ll have to go to an archery range one day and find out for ourselves.  
_     
Evelyn, in a cider addled haze, realized that was the first time he made reference to actually meeting her. Everything they talked about, the bakeries and butchers they visited, their favorite places in Kirkwall (Cullen: the beach, Evelyn: downtown) was all abstract and vagueries. 'I’ll go there and think of you’ or 'I’ll have to look that up next time’ never 'Let’s go together’.   
  
They tiptoed around it, still shy even as more and more feelings were laid bare with each conversation. Evelyn knew his shoe size, she knew he preferred his coffee and his gin straight up. He once confessed to having a crush on Andraste.   
_  
Not the woman, mind you, just the abstract idea. I mean, a lady who was the Maker’s Chosen has to be a really, really nice girlfriend don’t you think?  
_ _  
Maferath didn’t know what he was missing._   
__  
Yeah.  
    
She knew all these things, desired to know more, yet never once did the image of his face ever cross her mind until now. Still, as she dreamed about taking him to the Kirkwall Archery Club’s practice pitch, she didn’t put a face to a body. She kept him ambiguous, with certain characteristics. He would have a warm smile, didn’t matter the composition of his lips or his cheeks or his nose or eyes. His smile would radiate. His eyes would glow. When he took her hand, it would be strong.   
  
No color in his skin, no build to his body. His laugh would ring like the Chantry bells and his voice would settle in her stomach like a hearty meal and sit there, warming her from toes to scalp.  
  
Cullen waited for a response, hoping he hadn’t upset her with idle talk of meeting. He didn’t want to meet her, not yet. Not because of her, but because of him. He felt he had to be ready, that somehow, her halcyon image of him would be shattered when plain old Cullen showed up. It made him nervous, she thought so highly of him, unaware of who and what he was.   
  
She, however, nothing she could be would ruin his image.   
  
Because he had none.   
  
She was a gray amorphous blob that danced, and giggled, and played with her dog. A ghost with no form, only the essence of light and laughter and easy contentment. 

He loved a ghost. 

  
Oh shit, he thought, rising from his comfy chair to his cabinet, pulling out the bottle of Druffaloeater.   
_  
If you’re sauced, I might as well be too. Raleigh, remember him? The one who punched out a stop sign once? We drink off and on, 'Getting wasted’ as he likes to say. He’s a coworker of mine. He thinks you’re a horse._   
_  
Did you correct him?_   
_  
Of course I told him you were a mabari._   
  
Evelyn grinned on the other side of the phone, giddy and dizzy with drink. Cullen sighed, realizing now was the time to break the news.   
_  
I have to go out of town for a week tomorrow._   
_  
:( :( :( :( :(_   
_  
I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. Cell service will be shoddy at best where I’m going. If you like, we can exchange emails? Send me as many as you like and I’ll answer all of them.  
  
_ _[andrastesfavoritemabari@appcove.](mailto:andrastesfavoritemabari@appcove.com)td_   
_  
[achantryman@appcove.td](mailto:achantryman@appcove.td)_   
_  
It won’t be the same. I’m sorry, i’m wining. It’s just that, everything that’s been going on a work, talking you to really helps, makes me forget. Makes me happy._   
_  
Talking to you is the highlight of my day. Did you know that Evelyn?_   
_  
I may have guessed. ;)_   
_  
No guessing, I want you to know._   
  
Cullen’s web browser flashed, a new mail message, automatically forwarded from his appcove address to his personal email.   
  
 -Testing. 1.2.3.  
  
He quickly responded.  
  
 -Well met Ms. Mabari   
_  
Woof. Woof._   
_  
Maker’s breath, I’ll miss you._   
_  
Wareare you going?_   
_  
Ferelden.  
_ _  
How long?_   
_  
Too long. Now it’s late and you’re drunk. Go to bed Evelyn. No excuses._   
_  
But moooom._   
_  
No excuses young lady._   
_  
A guy has a couple months on you and he’s practically your grandparent.  
_ _  
Evelyn…_   
  
_Alright Cullen. Goodnight <3_   
_  
Pleasant dreams._   
  
Of you? She thought. Always. __  



	9. Breaking The Sound Barrier

**From** : andrastesfavoritemabari@appcove.td  
 **Sent** : Monday Kingsway 10, Digital 21:15 5:15 AM  
 **To** : achantryman@appcove.td  
 **Subject** : Good Morning!

Good Morning Cullen,  
How was your flight? I know you’re in Ferelden for work but I really hope you get the chance to sight-see. There are some incredible historical preservation sites depending on where you are. If you’re in the east you have to visit Therinfal Redoubt and see the statue there dedicated to the templars who fell during the Inquisition Wars during the middle of the Dragon Age.

Oh, and speaking of the Inquisition Wars, if you’re near Redcliffe you MUST. VISIT. Skyhold. Oh my goodness, I used to read about the Inquisition Wars when I was a kid and I just loved all the stories about the Herald of Andraste and Her Commander. I would love the chance to visit the keep and see where they actually lived. Did you ever watch the Philliam movie they made about it, the Lion and the Huntress? That was my absolute favorite movie when I was a little girl (okay so it probably still kinda is my favorite movie now). Historical inaccuracies aside (There is no historical indication that Ser Alistair Theirin nobly sacrificed himself at Adamant. He actually faked his death because he was the bastard son of the former Ferelden King Maric and he didn’t want anyone to come after him to assume the throne. Since there’s no official record of him after the Battle at Adamant Castle, most scholars assumed he died there, however later research suggests he escaped, ran off with his lover Elissa Cousland, and lived quietly as a cheese merchant in Denerim), it was such a great love story with the coin and the lake and the dancing at the Winter Palace. I know all the words to that movie front to back and I would just die to see the real Skyhold. (Not the Philliam version with the talking bird statues in the Great Hall).   
Oh damn. Sorry, history nerd, I kinda geeked out on you there. :)   
Anyway, enjoy your flight. If you find yourself with some cell reception shoot me a message hm?  
Woof,  
AFM  
  
 **From** : achantryman@appcove.td  
 **Sent** : Wednesday Kingsway 12, Digital 21:15 12:35 AM  
 **To** : andrastesfavoritemabari@appcove.td  
 **Subject: Re** : Good Morning!  
  
I am so sorry it took this long for me to reply. The flight was brutal and work was brutal too, I had no energy to breathe let alone reply to your message. And the days are long, we work until the job’s done so I only just now got back to my hotel.

I loved hearing about the Inquisition Wars when I was younger too, didn’t much care for the movie though. I was more of a Fadeworks boy than a Philliam boy. You know, movies like Shale and How to Train Your Darkspawn.

Can I tell you something funny? I had a dream the other night that was quite odd. I am in Ferelden and I am close to Redcliffe and I did think about making a stop to Skyhold to see the keep for myself and last night I had a dream about, funny enough, The Inquisition Wars. I dreamed I was the Commander and I had this huge furry mane that was red, sword and shield, the whole get up. But all the girls teased me and told me to just stand there and look pretty. But then I dreamed I lost all my clothes and had to run away before the Herald saw me. It was really odd, felt real almost, like a memory and not a dream.  
  
Is that weird to say? What do you dream about?  
  
It’s late where you are, you’re probably sleeping. Pleasant dreams whatever they are.  
Cullen  
  
 **From** : andrastesfavoritemabari@appcove.td  
 **Sent:** Thursday Kingsway 13, Digital 21:15 2:35 PM  
 **To:** achantryman@appcove.td  
 **Subject: Re: Re:** Good Morning!  
  
Oh it’s no worries! I did miss talking to you in real time though, that just means we’ll have to make up for it when you get back. How about taking a day to sit and just talk. I know we do that already but I can’t get enough of ~~you~~ (deleted) it.  
  
When I was a little girl I used to dream about being the Herald all the time. Riding horses (did you know there are records of the Herald riding all sorts of creatures, like harts and dracolisks?), killing demons, beating up ancient magisters with talking dragon companions. You know, that’s probably why I learned to ride and shoot in college. And of course, I dreamed about having my very own Commander. There’s this one dream I always had where I was walking on some ledge and it’s a pretty day out in the mountains and the Commander comes up and I know its him even though I can’t see his face and he’s talking to me being all cute and goes to kiss me and…  
  
I wake up.  
  
Isn’t that awful. I never get to kiss him, always interrupted.  
  
Oh, sorry to cut this short. Mr. Blackwall came in. I’ll talk to you later.  
Evelyn  
  
Today’s workload was significantly lighter than the day before and Cullen was released from work with half a day to himself. After making a few stops, taking the time to sight-see and wander about, he returned to his room just in time to catch Evelyn when she would be getting home from work. Thankfully the hotel had decent DavRi service, and when his phone picked up the signal, it buzzed dramatically for a full thirty seconds as message after message flooded his inbox.  
  
Cullen opened his phone and clicked the app.  
  
 _Oh Maker, oh no oh no  
  
Oh Maker, I can’t believe this! This is  
  
I can’t even type right now, I’m shaking and Sera is sobbing  
  
Today is the worst day of my entire life  
  
OH HOLY ANDRASTE I CAN’T  
  
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this  
  
I’ll leave you alone  
_  
The last message was sent two hours ago and he hadn’t received her daily email wishing him continued wellness on his business trip. Cullen opened his laptop and began pecking furiously away at the keyboard.  
  
 _Evelyn? What’s wrong? Evelyn, if you need me, I’m here.  
_  
He waited, her status indicator was yellow for ‘idle’, so she hadn’t been away from the app for too long otherwise it’d be grey for ‘away’. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with his frantic messages but after five minutes he couldn’t contain himself and started typing again.  
  
 _Come on Ms. Mabari, talk to me, you could never bother me. In fact it troubles me more that you aren’t speaking to me. I’m here to listen, please let me know you’re alright.  
_  
Another ten minutes. Silence.  
  
 _Evelyn, please, PLEASE. I am worried sick about you. I need to know you’re alright. I need to know. If something’s wrong…  
_  
He thought about it.  
  
He thought about it more.  
  
He decided.  
  
He acted.  
  
 _Here is my number 987-555-0911. I’m a phone call away if you need me. No pressure, you can text me or message me or email me just PLEASE Evelyn, I’m begging you.  
_  
 _Let me know you’re alright._  
  
Cullen stepped away from the computer. She had every bit of communication at her disposal, every way of getting in contact with him if she needed it. There was nothing more he could do.  
  
He threw himself on the bed, putting his phone on his chest. He checked the battery, it had a full charge, and for extra insurance he placed his emergency battery pack nearby to plug into the thing in case it got low.  
  
He waited, terrible, fearsome sickness crawling in his heart. Evelyn was hurting, her pain echoing somehow in his own chest with a light buzz.  
  
No.  
  
Not pain.  
  
Vibration.   
  
Ringing.  
  
Cullen jumped up, phone nearly flying off his chest before he snatched it in mid-air. Without looking at the number he clicked accept and heard a watery, broken voice on the other end of the line.  
  
“Hello? Cullen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me being self referential, pop culture referencing TRASH! One of my guilty pleasures with this fic, is coming up with Thedosian equivalents to modern concepts and hope you get the reference. And I was also being self indulgent as SHIT with some of those Into Darkness, Unafraid references. Sorry. Enjoy!


	10. Digital Love

She came home in a daze, Mr. Droe, the history teacher she occasionally worked with, offered to drive her instead of having her try to catch a bus in her shell shocked state. When she got home she collapsed, unable to remain standing, curled in a ball of tears on the floor.

Cousland whimpered, nudging his mistress with his nose as she wept, unable to budge her, he lay at her feet, waiting for her to uncurl.

As the day progressed, she sent message after message, unknowing of what to do or who to call. Sera and Mr. Blackwall both reacted poorly to the news and left Gallows Circle midday, taking the horses with them—after school lessons were cancelled anyway. Dorian was absent, his phone ringing straight to voicemail, and her other friend Isabela was tied up with work and wouldn’t be able to talk until much later, if she remembered. That left Evelyn alone to process the world of hurt that had been cruelly heaped upon her shoulders.

She sent Cullen messages, knowing he’d be unable to respond but hoping against better senses that he would.

Evelyn lay on the floor, in a stupor, staring at the ceiling, unable to hear her phone or her computer buzzing with Cullen’s messages. Cousland barked one solid, heart rattling bark, snapping her out of her daze, bringing her back to reality.

“Boy?”

He barked again, nosing her pocket, she could see the message indicator light glowing through her jeans.

“Good boy, Cousland.”

With arms trembling like the falling leaves outside, she pulled her phone out and thumbed through her messages.

_… I am worried sick about you. I need to know you’re alright…_

_Here is my number 987-555-0911…_

_Let me know you’re alright._

Evelyn cried, punching in his number, tears obscuring her eyes making her punch a 2 instead of a 5 or a 6 instead of a 9. After three mistakes, she got the number right, heart hammering wildly, a runaway horse, still racing from the earlier news and racing now because she couldn’t stop sobbing but she _needed_ _someone_ and he was the only one there.

It buzzed.

It buzzed again.

Fresh tears welled and fell. Of course he didn’t mean it, he—

“Hello? Cullen?”

Cullen breathed, took too many heartbeats to absorb the sound of her voice and its utter heartbreaking sadness. Any nerves he had about actually speaking to her fled him, and all he wanted, _needed_ to do was comfort her even from 1,000 miles away. When she hung up that phone, she would be smiling, he swore it to himself.

“Evelyn,” he exhaled, releasing the captured breath he sucked in when he heard her sob. “Tell me what’s happened. I’m listening. Tell me everything if you can.”

His voice, breathy and sweet, sounded like a whisper uttered into her neck, like a lover’s sigh after a tight embrace. She felt the touch of him in his inflection, his fingertips at her shoulder and around her waist, his arms pressing her back into his chest as her breathed in her pain and exhaled his comfort. It broke the remnants of her self-control, her troubles released with a torrent of new tears.

“Cullen,” She moaned. “A former student of mine was murdered last night.” She broke up, voice fracturing as her cries grew louder.

Say something you fool!

“Maker’s breath, Evelyn, I’m so sorry.”

Maker help you, you ass! Say something better you useless piece of –

“His name was Cole, he was such a sweet kid, really quiet, liked to help out with the younger kids. He graduated with honors last year. The horses loved him like I’ve seen them love no other student. He was so sweet… And now he’s dead.”

“Evelyn…If there’s anything…I’m here.”

No, he wasn’t there, he was here, in Ferelden, so many miles away.

“And the kids, they were so shocked. All of them crying. And…and I…”

Evelyn started to pant, each breath shorter than the last.

“I love …those…kids…if…something….”

Cullen heard whining and terrified barking, Cousland, the dogs nails clicking against the wooden floor as he paced about his mistress around and around knowing something was desperately wrong. Mistress hadn’t had an attack like this in years. He howled again, desperately beseeching the human on the other end of the glowing square to do something!

“Evelyn! Evelyn! Listen to me. Listen to me.”

“Cul-len…” Her every syllable punctuated with a sharp and short breath.

“Listen, are you listening Ms. Mabari? Come on sweetheart I need you to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath with me.” He drew in an exaggerated deep breath and let it out. “See, just like that, breathe.”

Evelyn was still bent on the floor, mind fuzzy at the edges and growing worse by the second. She heard her dog whining. She heard Cullen, she focused on him, the sound of him. When he breathed, she mimicked.

He heard her long and steady breath.

“Good, good one more time.” He took another deep breath and let it out.

She followed.

“Okay, sweetling, okay. Do it again. In and out. Breathe. I’m right here with you. I’m here, you’re safe. I swear. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

They went back and forth, his encouragements and her breathing. After 20 minutes she calmed, able to speak again.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I thought I was dying.”

“Oh, Evelyn darling please don’t say things like that, you’ll kill _me._ How are you feeling, got a rein in on that heart yet?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Good, listen, do you have anybody who can stay with you?”

She shook her head as she answered. “No.”

Cullen cursed himself, cursed his job, and cursed every stretch of mile that separated him from her.

“Then I need you to do me a favor dear heart. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh huh,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Put me on speaker.”

Cullen heard a booming clatter, she dropped the phone. “S…sorry sorry.” More muffles as she picked it up. “There. You’re on.”

“Cousland? You there boy?”

_Woof!_

“Need you to help me out okay?”

_Woof!_

“Put your head under her hand and _Do. Not. Leave. Her._ Do you understand?”

_Woof! Woof!_

Cousland was a good soldier, he followed orders well. He did as was commanded, nosing his large head under her unoccupied hand and sat, staring at her plaintively, as though waiting for the next order.

“Is he where he should be?”

“Yes.”

Cousland whined. _Of course!_

“Good. Evelyn, now I need you to do me a favor. Hm?”

“Yeah.”

“Scratch him behind the ears for me.”

Her chuckle broke up the trembling in her voice and Cullen’s body relaxed. “What’s so funny?”

“You are. You’re so Ferelden.”

Cullen didn’t need a mirror to know he was changing colors, the heat in his face was enough. “Is it my accent?”

“No, not at all. It’s just that, if there’s a mabari, no matter where you are, you wanna pet it.”

Cullen laughed and Evelyn’s heart squeezed for the first time in joy instead of grief. “It sounds nice though.”

“What does?”

“Your accent, and your laugh. Maker, I’m sorry that the first time we speak you have to talk me out of a panic attack.”

Cousland and Cullen both protested at once, both Ferelden’s growling.

Evelyn laughed again and the mabari responded with a happy yip and a tail wag.

“No, I’m just glad I can help. I’m relieved you’re all right, you had me so worried. If you hadn’t answered…”

_I would have dropped everything and hopped on the first flight back to get to you._

“What?”

Cullen groaned. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

She snickered. “Yes.”

“Does that bother you? I understand if you don’t--”

“No, I do too. It’s all I think about. You’re all I think about.”

She heard his soft sigh, and light chuckle, feeling his phantom arms around her again, squeezing her tighter.

“You’re always on my mind as well. Would you like to know something strange?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t…you would think, in this kind of situation, I’d be preoccupied with what you look like but I feel like… I know… I don’t care. Whatever it is about you, I _know you_. Your words, your personality all of it bleeds through whatever device you touch, and it infects me. I’m hearing you now, your voice, and it’s like you’re right here next to me, no distance or phone between us. It’s comforting. It’s _familiar_.”

“Known me all your life?” She asked. It was meant to be a joke, something to make him laugh but it only made his voice deeper and breathier.

“Yes, exactly. And I want to see you, to meet you, so I can hold you.”

“Cullen, it feels like you’re holding me right now.”

“Does it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Maker I wish I were.”

“So do I.”

“Is…is school cancelled?”

“No. But they’ll have grief counsellors there. I trained Cousland to be a service and therapy mabari. I’ll bring him with me to help with the younger students, and myself I guess.”

“I am deeply sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure there’s no one you can call? I’d sleep better knowing someone was there with you.”

“I want you here with me.”

“You mean that?”

“With all my heart, one that you saved from bursting I might add.”

“I feel like my heart’s about to.”

“Burst?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m falling in love with you.”

.

.

.

“Evelyn?”

“How are you gonna save my heart from tearing out of my chest only to make it do that very same thing?”

“It’s for a good reason right? Please tell me…Maker, I’m so…Evelyn, please understand..”

“Shut up.”

He stopped.

“I need you to hear me when I say ‘I love you too’.”

“Evelyn.” It was Cullen’s turn to crack apart. “Am I still on speaker?”

“Uh huh.”

“Cousland.”

_Woof!_

“Kiss her for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch the references, win a prize!


	11. Missed Connections

He talked with her through dinner, talked her through eating it while sat on his hotel bed munching quietly on his own half cold meal. He talked her through her shower, ignoring that she was naked on the other side of the line and that she kept making these squealing noises because Cousland, ever dedicated, felt the urge to join her in the tub.

“No pup! I know what he said, he didn’t mean it that literally!”

“Yes I did,” Cullen called, still on speaker.

He talked with her through brushing his teeth, and turning down his sheets as he climbed into the bed. He talked her through shuffling into her bed, Cousland’s anvil sized head never too far from her hand.

And together, between the three of them, her bed didn’t seem so large or lonesome.

“When will you be back?”

“Two days.”

“They bury Cole in two days.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No.”

“After?”

“No. As much as I wish you were here with me, I’ma probably need some time to get over this. I don’t want our first meeting to be shadowed by sadness.”

Cullen nodded, seeing the wisdom in her words. “I am at your disposal. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Cullen.”

“You never need to thank me.”

_-_-_

Two days came and went, and Cole was laid to rest on a sunny, cool day. The students, the faculty, the district administrators, even animals came to say goodbye. Evelyn counted 3 rabbits, 2 deer, and a raccoon amble across the open field of the cemetery, staying close to the treeline and away from people but nevertheless there.

Normalcy returned, as much as it could, and fall bloomed in earnest now, temperatures cooling, heralding winter’s chill, bringing with it harvests and healing.

They talked every day, trading the days’ tales and other musings. Their love for each other deepened, acutely, such that the pain of her loss was finally eclipsed by the pain of her longing.

“Hey,” she said, lying on one of her thick shaggy carpets, idle thoughts swirling like the stucco pattern on the ceiling. “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Cullen surprised himself by keeping the excited stammer out of his voice. “Oh, I think I was going grocery shopping that day. You?”

“I was thinking about going to the park.”

“Grand Cathedral?”

“Yeah.”

“Getting some apple donuts hm?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Are you going alone or…?” He was grinning, wide and full. His cheeks started burning, muscles unable to contain the weight of his joy.

“I might have some company.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yeah,” Cullen heard a beep then a bark so loud he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

“Ah. When are you going to be there?”

“Maybe ‘round noonish, or earlier, depends.”

“No, noon is good. It’ll give you two a day to spend.”

“Yeah, It’s too bad you’re going grocery shopping.”

Cullen shouted, groaning, unable to keep up the charade any longer. “Maker’s breath woman you know I’ll be there!”

Evelyn giggled on the other side of the line. “I was just making sure, I didn’t want to interrupt your plans.”

“You are my plan, my only plan. I won’t be able to think straight the next few days.”

“Me either. I love you Cullen, I'm so excited to finally meet you.”

“I love you, Evelyn, Maker I love you and I cannot wait to tell you that in person.”

_Whine._

“I love you too Cousland, thanks for taking care of her for me for so long.”

_Woof! Wooof!_

-_-_-

“Why am I here?”

“You’re helping me.”

“Helping you what exactly?”

“Pick something to wear.”

“Wear jeans or summat, who gives a shit!” Raleigh cursed.

“I do, this has to be perfect! I can’t show up looking like an unkempt slob.”

Raleigh gestured to himself, clad in a red flannel shirt and jeans that have seen better, cleaner days. “And you think I’m tha one to help you out with that?”

“You’re all I’ve got. Now pick!”

Cullen held up two sweaters, one a green cowl neck, the other a navy blue pullover.

"Maker help your silly arse!" Raleigh picked the pullover.

-_-_-

“We should be over there.” Isabela gestured to the store across the walkway, Leliana’s Secret. “When you said shopping for your date, I had no idea you meant actual clothes.”

“No! Isa, Maker. It’s not like that.”

“It should be, and even if it’s not, you should at least own one matched set of underwear.” Evelyn’s friend began walking toward the store.

“Isa no!”

“Isa yes!”

Isabela grabbed Evelyn’s hand and dragged her across the mall walkway colliding into a pair of friends leaving the men’s store right next door.

“Oi! Watch where you’re goin’!” One of the men cursed, smoothing his ruffled red flannel shirt.

“Shove it buddy!” Isabela shouted back, making a rude gesture with her fists.

Evelyn and the flannel man’s friend spared each other sympathetic glances before shuffling their crude companions along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelin' some type of way?  
> Come tell me about it  
> mirabai0821.tumblr.com


	12. Time Elapsed

    She woke at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. She didn’t have to work, it was one of only two days she was allowed to skip the battle with her nemesis the morning, and she woke at 5 a.m. She groaned and rolled over, burying her head under the pillows to maybe snatch a few hours back from the jaws of her excitement, but as every nerve in her body thrummed with nervous energy she knew she’d never get back to sleep.
    She did the laundry, she cleaned her kitchen, she dusted her bookshelves in the living room (and the TV stand, and her nightstands). She pushed the more thoughtful books of her collection to the forefront of her shelves while burying more shameful ones behind them. The worst of literature she shoved to the bottom of her sock drawer along with her box of bedroom electronics, taking the batteries out of every single toy lest Murphy’s Law be invoked.
    “Take no chances pup,” she advised the dog who simply stared at her, tail in a constant state of wagging.
    She called Ryft to ensure her ride would be there to pick her up at 11:30, ten minutes to get to the park, 15 to find the apple donut vendor, 5 minutes to stress about her appearance, and then (if he was on time, which she believed he would be) they had forever.
    “Not that kind of forever pup, don’t look at me like that.”
    Cousland cocked his head, and hopped into the car.
    She waited until the last possible minute to buy the donuts, ensuring they’d be warm and fresh when he met her. With Cousland following dutifully behind, the pair made their way to a secluded gazebo, away from the main walking paths and prying eyes.
    “So no one can watch as I kiss you senseless.” Cullen had said.
    She glanced at her phone, 11:55.
    Evelyn sat on the bench, head turning left and right, looking for a man with warm eyes and strong hands.
    11: 57.
    Cousland whined, sensing Evelyn’s anxiety. She scratched him behind the ears, never taking her eyes off the path.
    She stood abruptly when she saw a body come walking, a qunari. Aware but uncaring that she stared, she kept her face trained on the walker until she realized the qunari was female.
    Evelyn settled back down in a huff, checking her phone again 11:59.
    No messages. Probably walking, possibly running.
    “You know, to make it on time.”
    12:00.
    No one.
    12:05.
    She saw a runner, someone rounding the curve in the path and heading straight their way.
    He had blond hair, and kind eyes from what she could tell.
    Cousland barked and yipped, happily following after his mistress as she ran up to the path to greet him.
    “Cullen!”
    The man stopped, stared, cocked his shoulders quizzically, and kept running. Evelyn, brain shot to shit from nerves, never noticed his running shoes, his soaked t-shirt, and his less than weather appropriate running shorts.
    12:15.
    _Hey you, no rush, are you perchance at the wrong gazebo?_
     There was only one gazebo in the park.
    12:30.
    The apple donuts were cold.
    12:32.
    _Hey, where you at stranger?_
     Nothing.
    She walked in circles around the gazebo, stopping to smile expectantly at every single male that walked by. Two dwarves, two elves, four humans.
    12:45.
    Cousland lay at her feet, whining softly.
    “It doesn’t matter if he’s late, I don’t care about that.”
    He chuffed.
    “Maybe his phone is dead.”
     _Whine_.
     “Don’t think like that!”
    But the thought planted and germinated in her brain.
    Cullen, in a car crash.
    Cullen choking on his breakfast because he swallowed it down too quickly in his eagerness.
    Cullen in the hospital.
    Cullen comforting family as a loved one is wheeled into an ambulance.
    Cullen sick.
    Cullen hurt.
    Cullen dying, shot to death like Cole.
    Cousland licked her hand, hoping to distract her from the morbidity of her thoughts, but Evelyn’s mind ran through every likely scenario for his absence until she finally landed on one that stuck.
    He stood her up.
    12:45.
    12:55.
    1:15.
    She waited, walking up and down the path in front of the gazebo, rushing back whenever another person approached.
     _Just send me a message, one message._ She typed _. That’s all I need. Just tell me something happened or you’re not coming. I don’t even need an explanation. I just need to know you’re alright._
     Phone went to voicemail.
    She had to go to the bathroom but she didn’t dare move, squirming and sighing until she couldn’t hold it anymore.
    “Okay boy, there’s a café five minutes from here. I’m gonna go run and pee, you stay here.”
    She took pen and paper and left a note tucked into the dog’s collar.
    _Had to potty  
Be right back  
<3 Evelyn_
    1:45.
    She came back.
    No one was waiting for her.
    By 2 she was hungry.
    By 2:30 she was starving.
    By 3 she started crying convinced the worst had happened. She started calling hospitals, asking after a Cullen Rutherford, and checking local news reports for violent crimes or car accidents. She even called three police precincts asking if a man by that name had been arrested within the last 24 hours.
    Nothing.
    By 4, she  dialed Ryft. At 4:01:37, she hung up without calling them, thinking she saw a man come around the corner.
    He wasn’t alone, a pretty elven lady on his arm.
    They laughed at something secret and Evelyn thought they were laughing at her, somehow able to detect her pathetic, dejected, and rejected state.
    “He stood you up.” She said at 4:15. “He saw you and kept walking.”
    _Growl._
     Evelyn buried her face in her hands, unwilling to cry and ruin the mascara she painstakingly applied.
    This always happened. Always.
    At 4:29 she threw away the apple donuts, gone cold and stale.
    At 4:30 she called Ryft again.
    They picked her up at 5.
    By 5:30 she was home after a quick stop at the grocery store to load up on boxed wine and frozen pizza.
    By 6:30 she was drunk, her phone was dead but charging, and her computer speakers were turned to their loudest setting lest Cullen finally find his balls and message her.
    By 7 she was crying, drunkenly slurring through the words of “The Lion and the Huntress”, wailing the loudest at the wedding scene at the Winter Palace.
    By 8 she was angry, stumbling to her computer to leave a torrent of messages.
    _Why didn't you call?_
    _Where are you?_
    _Are you okay?_
    _Answer me damnit!_
    _Plese._
    _Please don't be dead._
    _Cullen?_
    _CULLEN!_
    _Is it me? Did you see mea nd think I wasn't what you were looking for?_
     By midnight, the fear came back and she started calling the hospitals again.
    By 1 am, the self-loathing came back, reminding her yet again of her utter worthlessness on the dating market.
    She remembered the cruel anonymous messages left for her on her Cinder profile, punctuated with various slurs and comparing her to a well-dressed ape. It wasn’t _all_ bad, there were the guys that thought she’d be some crazy wildcat in bed—ok, so yeah, maybe it was _all_ bad.
    Then the one guy, the man who turned that _all bad_ into the _only good_ …made it _all bad_ again.
     By 6 a.m. she was asleep, and didn’t wake until 2.
    No voicemails.
    No messages.
    Nothing.
    

 


	13. The Man from T.E.M.PL.A.R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Maker! jadedhorror drew a picture of Evelyn (B). First EVER fanart I've EVER GOTTEN EVER AND ITS AMAZING!
> 
> Check it out here: http://jadedhorror.tumblr.com/post/128894646812/small-doodle-of-mirabai0821s-evelyn-b-trevelyan
> 
> And check jadedhorror out at jadedhorror.tumblr.com

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Marco’s Pizza?”

“S-so-sorry. Wrong number.”

Click.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Click.

Ring.

Ring.

“Listen asshole. I don’t know who this number is but this is the third…”

“Ev-elyn?”

“Cullen?!”

“Eve-“

Click.

Cullen moaned slamming the cheap smartphone on the table.

He shook too badly to type a message on his computer and somewhere in his 13 hour long nightmare he lost his phone. It took everything he had to pull on clothes and shuffle down to the SanDal-Mart a block away to buy a cheap burner phone.

He dialed again.

Got the pizza place again.

One more time.

And she answered.

“Cullen?”

“Eve-ev-lyn. Please. Lis-sten.”

“Are you alright?” She asked flatly. Evelyn pulled her phone away to check the time, 5pm Sunday.

She made her displeasure known in the slight snarl, what was more noticeable was the sadness. He read her messages, he knew what she thought he thought of her. This wasn’t how he intended to reveal this, but she didn’t deserve a lie.

“N-no.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice softened a bit, still raw from the tears and the alcohol and the fitful sleep.

“I…I…” She heard a shuddering moan on the other end of the line and her anger melted away leaving concern and fear.

“Cullen! Baby, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

Cullen panted, trying and failing to get his breathing under control. “I-I’m…I’m so-“

“I’m not worried about that anymore. Tell me what’s wrong?!”

“Ly-lyri-um.” He bit out through the clacking teeth.

“Wha—the drug?”

“Yes.” He clenched his jaw, waiting for the line to go dead.

“…” He heard the soft whine of a dog, she was still there. Then she heard shuffling, thumping feet, and jangling keys.

“Where do you live? I’ll be right---“

“No-no. Not like…” He bit his lip, drawing blood, unwilling to scream as another cramp strangled his guts. “Not—like this.”

“Cullen, you’re hurting, I can help. Tell me how to get to you. Now.”

“S-s- stubborn.”

“Says the Ferelden. Now speak!”

Cousland barked.

_Yeah, get talking._

“Not-no-t tel-ling.”

“Cullen.”

“Evelyn.”

“Is this why you missed yesterday?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Why didn’t you…”

“Fingers…shake…can’t….type. Lost…phone.”

“Baby what happened? I was worried sick, calling hospitals and police stations.”

“I’m…so….sor-ry.” He took a steadying breath and the tremors quieted for a moment, long enough for him to speak in unbroken sentences. “I was in the military. I still am. That’s what I do. But back then, I was special ops. T.E.M.PL.A.R. They used to…”

He bit his lip, waited a moment, the pain stopped, he kept talking. “We used to take lyrium to give us an edge during missions. Then we took it to…forget what we had done. After a while I stopped. Couldn’t do it anymore. I quit but the with…drawl…”

She heard a muffled thud.

“Cullen!”

“I’mm—fi- fine.”

“Stop it, just tell me where you are. Please.”

“No---this isn’t about my pride, its about your safety. Stay away from me.”

“Ain’t happenin’. Do you want me to go walk through Kirkwall until I find you? Damn you, I’ll try!”

“No…pl-please…If you wanna…wanna. Help just keep…talking to me. I need to hear you…not…not screaming.”

“You have nightmares?”

“Terrible ones.”

“Punishment for quitting.”

“Punishment for ever starting.”

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

“The more you talk, the less I feel. The better I feel.”

"Promise me something?"

"Y-yes."

"Promise not to keep stuff like this from me?"

"I..puh-promise. I'm sorry. We'll try again when I feel better. I give you my word."

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

“What do you wanna hear Mr. Chantry?”

Cullen exhaled, deflating a little, relaxing even more.

“You could read the di—diction—ary and I’d be fine.”

“I love you Cullen.”

“Maker, that’s a really good start. Say that again p-please.”

Evelyn smiled and he heard it in her voice. “I love you.” She repeated.

“How—how long did you—wait?”

“About 5 hours. Almost pissed myself, and embarrassed myself to a couple of guys who I thought were you.”

“M—maker, I’m so sorry. I’ll m-m-make it up to you.”

“All I need is for you to get better.”

“O—okay.”

She was laying on her couch, nursing her hangover and lingering emotions from yesterday. She put the phone on speaker. “Cousland.”

_Woof?_

“Keep him company.” She pushed the dog’s nose into the phone and Cullen heard the mabari pant and jiggle his massive jowls while she rose to visit the bookshelf.

“Hey boy.”

_Whuf._

“Are you mad at me?”

_Whine._

“I’m glad.”

Evelyn returned with a book, opened it to the middle, looking for a specific passage and started to read.

“Love, noun. Definition number one: A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.  
Example: I love you Cullen."

She read to him, literally from the dictionary.

“Number two: A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.  
Example: I love you far more than a friend.”  
  
Cullen laughed softly as she continued.

“Number three: sexual passion or desire.” She purred this definition, the grin in her voice apparent. “Example: I…uh…nevermind.”  
  
Cullen laughed again. “Frustrated?”

“Maybe.”

“Hm? Thinking about things you shouldn’t b-be?”

“Maybe.” She cleared her throat and read on. “Number 4: a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart. Example: Cullen, my love. Number five: Used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like Example: I hope you feel better love.”

“Hmm keep talking. Evelyn.”

She read to him for two hours, breaking up their journey through all the love words in the dictionary with little status updates and questions about his employment.

"Does T.E.M.PL.A.R. stand for anything?"

"Tactical Emergency Military Police And Rescue."

"When you were in Ferelden?"

"Reconnaissance."

"Is your job dangerous?"

"Not anymore. I'm on reserve. If a war breaks out they might call me in. Otherwise I sit at my desk waiting for stuff to happen."

"Sounds nice."

"It's boring. Evelyn, I can't tell you how sorry I am about what happened."

"Don't worry about it. Let me worry about you. And you focus on getting better. Will you go into work tomorrow?"

"Probably not. I've got some cleaning to do."

"Are you sure I can't help?"

"I've got it."

"Is this gonna be your new phone?"

"Until I find mine. If I ever. Now where did you leave off? I'm very much enjoying the dictionary right now. Riveting reading."

"Number Six:..."

**

“Cullen? You still there?”

She heard his steady, even breathing, a light snort too. Smiling to herself, Evelyn found one more definition to read before hanging up.

“Number twenty-seven: Make love, to embrace and kiss as lovers. Example: I want to make love to you, Cullen.”

“I do too, Evelyn.”

She gasped.

Click.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the love given
> 
> Thanks


	14. Talk Dirty To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the love you guys have been sending me for this. This was born of an errant conversation had with a friend on tumblr and wow! It's so much fun.

He heard a beep, a message indicator.

A video.

He hit the download button and after a few seconds the video player on his new phone popped.

He turned the screen landscape and as the display flipped to adjust, the pause screen showed a group of three or four teenagers and a very large white horse behind them.

Cullen hit play.

_Okay everybody say ‘Hi Cullen’_

_‘Hiiiii.’_

_Okay so my friend Cullen is at home sick so we’re gonna send him this to make him feel better alright?_

_Is he you boyfriend?_

_Ms. Evelyn ain’t allowed to have a boyfriend!_

_And why not Connor?_

_Because you’re my girlfriend._

_Connor! For that you get to muck the trailer!_

The phone’s camera pointed outward so he never saw the face or body of its operator. He saw her students as they teased each other, as they teased Ms. Evelyn. More than one student expressed their displeasure at Evelyn’s relationship status while one faculty member took that displeasure to a completely higher level.

_Ms. DeFer, no wait, don’t!_

_Give me the phone darling!_

The camera jostled for a bit before a face made of permanent disdain and undeniable class consumed the screen.

_Now you listen Mr. Faceless Boyfriend. Ms. Evelyn is a beautiful woman—_

_Ms. DeFer! Stop it!_

_With a beautiful heart for what she does with these kids. So if you—_

_Gimmie back…_

The camera jostled again, there seems to be a fight for it. The woman named Ms. DeFer wins.

_So if you break her heart I will personally see to the breaking of every bone in your body. And I know a few Red Templars so watch out! Here you go darling._

The phone changed hands again, and Cullen can hear Evelyn’s embarrassed mutter.

_Sorry about that. Anyway this is Jackson. And that’s White Luck. And over there is Mr. Blackwall teaching the kids how to block Sera’s arrows._

_Sera!_

_WHAT!_

_Say hi to Cullen._

_Piss off!_

_Isn’t she charming? Anyway, I hope you’re feeling better. We’ll talk later okay. I love you! Muah!  
_

The video ended.

Cullen sighed, sinking back into his pillow. He stayed in bed most of the day, making the necessary excuses to his employer. Raleigh emailed him that same day guessing it was the sickness that kept him out.

_I hope you feel better mate, but when you get back, we gotta go over some reports we’ve been getting from Ferelden. Nothing serious but it looks weird. Rest up, need you at your best._

_Raleigh_

He righted the aftermath of his episode, finding his phone alive and well buried under an overturned nightstand. Cullen read the messages Evelyn left for him on Saturday before quickly deleting them, still ashamed his behavior caused her hurt. He would make that right. When they met, he would make it perfect. She deserved nothing less. He sent her a message from his old phone, letting her know it was found and that she could call him or message him whenever she had a free moment to chat.

He heard the beep, picked up the phone, and saw a picture.

A picture of a living room. Couch, coffee table, one of those weird cushioned, round chairs made of wood that sits up on a pedestal.

There was a message accompanying the picture.

_My living room._

Beep.

Downloading….

A very large sleeping mabari.

_That’s Cousland._

Another beep.

The dog was sitting up now, great tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He’s either inordinately happy or still half-asleep from an abrupt waking.

_Say hi Cousland._

She sent him a picture of her tiny kitchen, indicating she lived in a studio. The next beep contained the view from a window, the Grand Cathedral jutting up from a field of red orange, brown, and green leaves all blurred together to form a carpet leading right up to the entrance.

_My view._

There was a pause, a few seconds before another picture arrived.

It was a picture of a bedspread, plain and white, the rounded corner of the edge of a bed in the bottom of the frame.

And on the bed, a matched pair of bra and panties. Gold with red lace trimming the edges, and a red bow tying both halves together.

_Look what I bought. :P_

Cullen shuddered.

“Maker’s fucking breath.”

Beep.

It was the bed again. He could make out a pair of long legs hidden under the bedspread, but most of the screen was the empty bed space next to those legs.

_All that’s missing is you._

He dialed her immediately.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hi.”

“Hi” He croaked, throat suddenly and inexplicably tight along with every other muscle in his body.

“How are you feeling?”

“Be-“ he coughed, insurance against another puberty-like voice crack. “Better.”

“You sure? You sound funny.”

Oh that was the game, she was teasing him. Humor dripped from her tone and if he knew what her lips looked like he could imagine them curled in a sinister smirk.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you like the video?”

“Ms. DeFer is frightening.”

“She seems that way, but once you get to know her she’s fiercely loyal and a big sweetheart. Ms. Stannard once tried to get Sera fired but Ms. DeFer wrote this note to her. And now, I don’t know what the note said, but after that, all talk of firing Sera stopped completely. And Ms. Stannard is Ms. DeFer’s boss.”

“So when she threatened to break every bone in my body or sic a Red Templar on me…”

“She probably can, so watch out.”

“I take it you’re preparing for bed?”

“Yeah, but I’m not tired.”

“Nor I.”

“Nightmares?” She asked, serious tone overtaking the playful one.

“No. Dreams.”

“Of?”

“What’s going on under that bedspread.”

Evelyn hummed thoughtfully.

“Would you like to know?” She asked, her voice a comb of honey, dipping into sweeter, breathier lower registers.

She heard him, exhale deeply. “Yes.”

“Did you see that picture?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what’s going on.”

He groaned, fire flaming in his veins, set alight like a match to a stove. “You’re wearing those?”

“Yes. Do you…want to see them?”

“Only in the flesh. If I could look at you but not touch you..Maker.” His voice was low, a whisper, a strained whisper.

“If you could…see me… _and_ touch me…would you?” She asked, afraid of the answer. This was all still a grand experiment, one that might fail with just a glance.

“Would you want me to?” He felt it too.

“Yes.” She answered, assured.

“Where?”

“Wh-where what, Cullen?” She was playing coy, stalling for time, preserving her sense of pride as her voice almost shattered into its own moan.

“Where do you want me to touch you, _Evelyn._ ”

“ _Everywhere_.”

He made a little noise in the back of his throat, a humming sound accentuated with a deep breath exhaled through his nose. Cullen closed his eyes, picturing nothing, only imagining the feel of her skin under his fingertips.

“I’d start with your face. I’d take my hand, rest it against your face, and appreciate the simple fact that I’m there, and you’re in my arms _finally._ ” He exhaled, a note of deep longing in that last word.

“Yes, Maker. Cullen, more. _Please.”_

He was not prepared for the pleading sound she made, a soft whine that cut through his body, tearing a path of desire straight to his groin. He swallowed, he tensed, he took a deep breath and started speaking again.

“You were meant to be savored Evelyn. I’m patient. I’d take my time with you. Kissing you slowly, learning what makes you sigh.”

She sucked in a breath, hissing as her nails scratched against her skin. Her breathing picked up, overwhelmed with imagined sensations of his lips on hers, their tongues meeting, pressing together, old soulmates finally reunited.

“I could kiss for hours. I _would_ kiss you for hours. Would you let me?”

“No. I’d go crazy. I’m not the most patient woman, not when the man I love wants to take his time with me. Couldn’t handle it, I’d…” She moaned, pinching her thigh to remain sane with all the desire boiling under her skin. “Cullen, I need you.”

“I need you more. I’d enjoy making you crazy then.” He chuckled. “Making you moan like that. The sounds you make alone…”

She moaned again to his detriment, mind foggy with the idea of his lips on her neck and her fingers starching at his back.

Cullen folded his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a groan. His body tightened yet again, a click ratcheting down on his self-control, holding it tighter, and tighter and tighter, every breath from her one more click back until he could hold no further and all released.

“Sounds like, ah,” she sighed. “Sounds like you’d be just as crazy hm?”

“Maker, yes.”

“Should we…stop?”

“Do you want to?”

“There are merits to continuing, merits to waiting.”

“Such as?”

“I want to see your face when I make you come.”

She heard a strangled groan, then a loud crack. “Cullen?”

He dropped the phone, rather he _threw_ the phone, let it fly from his hands because the voice on the other end conducted through the damn thing like an arc of lightning. “Shit shit!”

“Cullen, baby, everything okay?”

“No, yes..ugh.” She heard the phone fumble again, before his voice came through clearly. “Sorry, dropped my phone.”

“Are we…are we stopping then?”

“Seems like a yes.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I can hang up this phone and go die of embarrassment in peace. No, I can’t hear you when I make you scream for me.”

“Cullen! You dirty tease! You stay on this phon—"

Click.

Cullen allowed himself an amused chuckle before flopping down on his bed, trying very hard not to think about what she’d sound like moaning his name.

It didn’t work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all is well, the final-ish chapter should be posted by tonight.


	15. Party Chat

“I swear to the Maker if you sigh one more time, I’m gonna take your fuckin’ phone and throw it out the damn window.”

Cullen hunched over his desk a dreamy expression on his face, chin resting on the hard wood, his thumb flipping through the pictures Evelyn had sent them that day.

“Aha!” Raleigh snatched the phone out of Cullen’s inattentive grasp. “I told you! She was a horse!”

“Give it back Samson, she _works_ with horses.”

Raleigh flipped through the pictures.

“SAMSON!”

“Is this her?”

There was a picture of Ms. DeFer instructing her math class.

“No.”

“This?”

Another picture, Sera and Blackwall posed pointing comically at restaurant sized boxes of peach fruit cups.

“No.”

“Are there any pictures of her on here…well hello there.”

“Leave him be Samson,” Barris said, coming to the defense of his best and oldest friend snatching the phone from Raleigh. “We’re supposed to be checking out those Ferelden reports.”

“They ain’t shit, Delrin you know it. Been digging through reports and shite for weeks now. It’s nothing.”

“Maybe you’re right, but you know, ‘ _Ever Vigilant_.’” Delrin handed the phone back to Cullen, smirking. Cullen showed his appreciation with a fist bump.

“Ehh, fuckin’ T.E.M.PL.A.R.S. Still, how do you expect me ta’ get work done sharing an office with this sigh-all-the-time bastard?”

“It’s not _all the time_!” Cullen sniped back bitterly.

“It is quite often!” Krem called from the other room.

“Yeah!” Dalish agreed. “We can hear it from here.”

“Hey! Stay out of this Chargers! This is Temp business only!”

“You make it our business when we can hear you pining from the next office over. Have you even met this girl yet? Need help? Need some tips?” Dalish cooed.

“I don’t need help.” Cullen muttered

“Then why haven’t you met her yet and given her your ‘sword of mercy’?” Raleigh teased.

“Maker’s ass it’s not like _that_. I really like this woman.”

“We know, Maker we know.” Delrin added.

“Traitor!”

“If you like her so much, why haven’t you met her yet? What are you waiting for?” Krem asked, deciding to save Cullen from his friends and himself.

“Because…she…I …we…”

He glanced down at his phone, there was a new picture message.

_Sera tried to stealth snap a pic of me. I showed her. Then I fell. I’m okay though :)_

The picture was one of her on a horse. But the horse was reared into the air, cutting her head and most of her body out of the frame, showing only the rearing horse and a pair of jean clad long legs he’d seen before, her boots slipping from the stirrup.

Samson, deciding to put his friend out of his misery, snatched the phone and hit the green call icon next to her name.

“Hey!”

“Hold ‘em gents.”

Delrin, Krem, and Dalish held the struggling Commander back as the phone rang.

“Hi cutie.” She was put on speaker.

“You ain’t never seen him, how do you know he’s cute? For the record he is but still.”

“You’re not—“

“Wait, no! This is a mistake! Evelyn don’t listen!”

“Heya lass, name’s Raleigh Samson and I’m your bloke’s best mate. Now I dunno why it’s taken him so long to say this but, he wants to meet you for real.”

“Desperately.” Delrin added.

“Most ardently!” Dalish agreed.

“Evelyn! I…uh..”

“Well, dontcha Cullen?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Samson.”

“Thas’ just Raleigh to you.”

“Okay Raleigh, while I appreciate your efforts, I think I’d prefer to hear the invitation from Cullen’s own mouth and not under any kind of duress.” Evelyn snapped.

“Oh, I like her.”

“Would you kindly return Cullen’s phone to him?”

“Of course. And listen lass, in case it don’t work out, my number is 623-555—.”

“SAMSON!” The entire office shouted.

Raleigh reluctantly returned to Cullen his phone, even took the effort to snatch it back once before handing it to him in earnest. Cullen pressed the speakerphone button.

“Evelyn?”

“Is it safe?”

“Yes.”

Evelyn burst into a fit of laughter that, coming from any other woman, would have made Cullen cycle through all the shades of red in the color spectrum before hanging up in shamed embarrassment. But from her, it just made him warm, flooded with unnameable emotions, every one better than the last. He wanted to hear that laugh unfiltered, wanted to see that smile with his own eyes. Wanted to kiss grinning lips and feel the warmth of her with his own hands.

“Oh, they are just the cutest! Can I meet them one day?”

“Su…sure.”

“Only after I.. CONNER! YOU STOP PULLING JACKSON’S TAIL BEFORE HE KICKS YOU IN THE FACE SO HELP ME MAKER!”

“Everything alright?”

“Fine for now. Anyway, they were just teasing I imagine…you don’t—“

“No, I do.”

“Really? Are you…Are you sure? No rush, I mean you were unwell last time and…”

“No Evelyn, I need to see you before I lose my mind.”

“OR WE KILL HIM!” Someone shouted from behind. Most likely Samson.

“I…okay. When?”

“How’s this Saturday? Grand Cathedral, there’s a grassy area right behind it. Beautiful view of the church. I’ll bring the apple donuts this time and—oh! Have you been to the art museum? There’s an exhibit on Tevinter history and I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“All of it. Whatever we wanna do, let’s do. Let’s go. Together. You and me. Finally.”

“Okay.” Cullen laughed, excitement replacing every sadness he ever felt. “Okay! Okay…um…when?”

“Noon.”

“Like last time.”

“Just tell me if you’re feeling ill—and if you are, we’ll have an in date. No way you’re getting out of seeing me this Saturday. Come Void or high water. Alright?”

“Alright.”

They were both at work, so after that little interlude, they hung up to get back to it. Evelyn’s phone beeped a few minutes later.

A picture message.

It was a group of men and one elven woman. All were smiling and the one she suspected was Samson made a phone symbol with his hands. _Call me_.

The caption under the photo read: _They’re all excited to meet you. And so am I._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am here for bestfriend!Samson  
> Next chapter coming soon.


	16. Offline

She woke at 10 am this time. Well rested and all that. She messaged Dorian before leaving the apartment.

_The app worked. Thank you Dorian. ‘Bout to go meet what I’m going to start calling the love of my life. If things go bad, I’m going to become a Chantry Sister. Or a serial killer. You pick._

It was early still, for Dorian at least, so the answer from him was unexpected.

_I told you. Go get ‘em. Then bring him home so I can meet him._

She checked her appearance one more time. The makeup wasn’t heavy, the barest bit of foundation and color on the lips. Everything else she was born with and couldn’t erase. The idea of the reverse, of her not liking his looks never crossed her mind until now before she quickly dismissed it.

There was nothing he could be she wouldn’t love.

**

He’s on time.

Early even.

He arrived at the Grand Cathedral a full 30 minutes before the agreed upon hour, apple donuts secured.

He bought a bouquet of roses, which he then immediately decided were 11 too many. So Cullen frantically gave all the blooms away save one, pestering old ladies and grown men if they would kindly take the excess off his hands.

11:55.

He stood at the end of the long mall in front of the church, watching children and dogs and grown adults play in the piles of leaves spilled and left behind by naked trees. He made a mental note to run through one of those piles once he was done kissing her (if he ever would be), adding that to the list of activities he planned for them. First greetings, then kissing, then more kissing, then declarations of love with more scheduled kissing after that. Apple donuts, apple cider, kissing, and now run through a pile of leaves.

He smiled to himself, pleased.

Today would be perfect.

**

She regretted having to leave Cousland behind. Cullen planned on taking them to the museum and that new Antivan place on East 4th, and since neither of those places were mabari friendly, Evelyn left extra food in his bowl, bought him a huge druffalo bone from the butcher’s, and made promises to return before it got too late.

“Might bring a guest too, so be on your best behavior okay pup?”

Cousland whined, sad he was being left out.

She kissed her dog, who gave her a forgiving lick on the cheek, growling softly.

_Okay Mistress but I want EXTRA belly scratches for this._

**

Her phone rang. “Hello beautiful.” Cullen greeted.

“Be careful, in a few minutes you might have to take that back.”

“That will be impossible. I _know_ you’re beautiful.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Because I wasn’t talking about your face.”

He heard her little squeaking sigh of embarrassment and smiled. “Where are you?” He asked.

“Getting anxious?”

“Maker’s breath yes, I’ve dreamed of this for ages it feels like.”

“Good dreams?” She asked seriously.

“Yes, all good.”

“Good. Well, if you must know Mr. Chantry I’m walking from the front of the Cathedral to…”

12:00

BONG!

BONG!

BONG!

The Cathedral bells started to ring. Evelyn had to yell to compensate for the noise.

“I’m walking from the front to the—“

BONG.

BONG.

BONG.

Cullen watched both sides of the Church, looking for a woman on her phone. As she continued to yell, he started walking closer, eager to catch her by surprise.

BONG.

BONG.

BONG.

The plaza was filled with people, a grey sky day but still otherworldly beautiful—a world drowned in oranges and golds and reds.

BONG.

“Are you close? I’m so excited.” Cullen yelled.

BONG.

BONG.

“Yea—“

BOOM!

The world shook, shuddering violently, the stones under Cullen’s feet lifted, and a violent hot wind pushed him up and into the air. Noise, unlike anything, shattered his ears as his existence flipped itself.

The ground became the sky. The sky became the ground. Back and forth and up and down again until he landed in a soft cloud.

Leaves, he landed in a pile of leaves.

The happy cries of children grew louder and louder and LOUDER until they were screams. Those screams turned into one sharp buzz, ringing in his ears, a familiar sound. Something he recalled from his special-ops days.

The ringing aftermath of an explosion.

Cullen opened his eyes and the world was still drowning in reds, golds, and oranges.

But this time it was fire.

**

Her life stopped, ended, the sound of bells chiming in her ears.

It restarted an unknowable amount of time later, the sound of screaming in her ears.

Dazed, Evelyn pushed herself off the ground, staggering first to her knees, then to her feet.

She felt like she’d undergone some sort of radical transformation. She was covered in grey white dust and red stickiness, blood.

Her blood, other people’s blood perhaps. A stinging pain rent her left arm and there was a large gash that snaked from her shoulder to her elbow, barely felt.

Her jeans were torn, more blood running from underneath the fabric, barely felt.

Her toes wriggled, her fingers too, and for the most part, she was whole.

Except for her phone.

Which lay under a boulder.

Crushed.

Inches from where she woke.

“Oh…oh oh…” Higher function returned to her. Her animal brain, deciding she was no longer in immediate danger, went back to sleep, and Evelyn remembered she was supposed to meet someone.

Someone was waiting for her by the Cathedral.

With apple donuts.

And a warm smile.

With strong hands.

But the Cathedral wasn’t there anymore, blasted away into thick chunks of mortar and stone and brass and fire.

“CULLEN!” Evelyn screamed, lost in a sea of screaming.


	17. Connection Restored

He ran, he tried.

Limping was more appropriate. Dragging his rolled left ankle behind him, Cullen ‘ran’ towards the burning ruble, papers from blown apart books falling from the sky like fall leaves, blanketing a ground already blanketed by crushed stone and twisted rebar.

“EVELYN!” He screamed. His cry swallowed up by millions of other similar cries.

His phone was still in his hand, whole.

He pushed the button, the screen blinked to life. But a big red X crossed out the signal bars, and the DavRi indicator was greyed out.

He dialed anyway.

“Maker please, maker please, MAKER PLEASE.”

No connection.

“EVELYN!” He screamed again before the sound cut out in a harsh cough. Smoke and dust filled his lungs and throat where there should be only air.

Sirens replaced screaming.

The firefighters and police arrived, roping off the area, pushing people back, getting people out, moving people away.

“Step back sir,” A cop tried to stop him from approaching the building any further.

“No, no let me help, I’m military, I can help.”

The cop let him through.

**

Every few steps, Evelyn stopped to scream his name. Though by now the gesture was useless, no one heard yet everyone was listening, searching for the sound of a loved one’s name or cry.

“Miss, miss you’re injured. Miss!”

Evelyn walked past the woman, heedless, still shuffling toward the broken church.

“Miss! Stop!” The woman grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back, throwing her into the back of an ambulance already filled with moaning injured.

“Those are the last for White Spire Medical. Go!”

**

He thanked his Maker he never pulled a body from the rubble.

And every woman he carried out, he asked her name.

Helisma.

Isolde.

Merril.

Josephine.

 

Solona.

After he asked her, she tried to slip him her number. He politely declined, letting her down gently as he gently let her down on the sidewalk.

An emergency worker came to help Ms. Solona into an awaiting ambulance as another woman had to be dragged into it, kicking and screaming, no doubt shell shocked by the situation.

“Those are the last for White Spire Medical. Go!”

Cullen watched the ambulance speed away.

Then he got in his car, and headed for White Spire.

**

She was bandaged in the parking lot then instructed to sit, she had a mild concussion and didn’t need to be heading home alone just yet. Not that there was any way she was getting home like this. No car, no cabs, traffic blocked for miles in every direction. Her leg hurt too badly to walk the 6 miles back to her apartment and she had no way to call anyone with her phone destroyed and payphones swarmed by the desperate.

So she sat, staring at the crushed remnants of her phone, her tears sucking into the veins of cracked glass.

She couldn’t call him.

Couldn’t text.

Couldn’t message.

All connection to him was severed.

She didn’t even know if he was alive.

She cried softly, nestled in the corner of a tent, hunched over on an oddly comfortable folding chair. She was surrounded by the lightly injured, all in various forms of shock. Some wept quietly, others wailed loudly. Other’s cursed, flipping through their phones, anxious to see the barest bit of color in the signal bar.

Phones rang, loved ones came in and were recognized on sight, friends and families were reunited.

Connections restored.

She couldn’t have that.

She wouldn’t get that.

He could be looking for her right now, his cries of her name swallowed up in similar cries. He could walk in right now and she would never know. A man with strong hands and a warm smile would walk on by her, still convinced she was lost.

She missed him, she feared for him. She kept crying until her head hurt and her throat burned.

**

“Excuse me, excuse me.” Cullen pushed through the sea of people, glancing about, unaware of what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t know what she looked like, he couldn’t point her out in a crowd. All he could hope to do was shout her name and pray someone answered.

That actually worked once. In the lobby of White Spire, he shouted her name and a head popped up.

A man, hair white with age and pink with dried blood, jerked his head, looking in Cullen’s direction.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen sighed.

“Ah, looking for a woman then?”

“Yes.”

“They set up tents in the parking lot, have you tried there?”

“Thank you sir, I’ll go right away.”

**

As the pain in her head dissipated, the pain in her heart grew. Larger and larger until she couldn’t hold it in her chest anymore. She let loose a dry sob, that turned into a moan, that she quieted into a hum. There were children in the room, and she didn’t want to upset them further.

So she kept humming. Tuneless and formless, the vibration comforting.

She put form to the humming, taking it from idle trilling and giving it structure.

Then that structure became something familiar and comforting.

A song she knew.

**

First tent: No Evelyn.

Second: No Evelyn.

Third: No.

Fourth: No.

Ninth: …

By the Eleventh he was exhausted; brain, body, and heart. He sat in an empty seat in a half-full tent as the woman next to him choked back quiet tears.

He didn’t bother to ask her name. At this point, he was convinced he’d never find her, convinced she was silent and cold buried under rubble.

He checked his phone one more time, and found that it too had gone silent and cold, the battery long dead from his constant checking.

Cullen buried his face in his hands, the last bit of hope dying in his chest.

As the woman next to him started humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #realtalk story is probably not over. There’s so much I wanna see from them that goes beyond what’s supposed to happen next. So that last chapter stuff, I lied.
> 
> What do you wanna see? Besides the obvious :P


	18. Andraste's Favorite Mabari

_You know Andraste's old mabari._  
He don't show up in the chant.  
And if you ask those holy sisters,  
Well, they'll say Andraste can't  
Have had some big old smelly wardog.  
But all Ferelden knows it right:  
Our sweet Lady needed someone  
Who would warm her feet at night.

She was barely audible, if he wasn’t sitting next to her, he’d never hear it, but for what she hummed, it sounded like another explosion in his ears. No ringing, no buzzing, just her pure sweet sound.

 

Her quiet sobs broke some of the verses into little sad pieces but she continued, hugging her knees to her chest—the song providing some small measure of comfort where there was seemingly none to be had.

 

 _Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste_  
Without arrogance or fear,  
Only asking of his mistress  
Just a scratch behind the ears.  
But then old Maf'rath gets to plotting,  
Tries to lure that dog away.  
But even as they trap the Prophet,  
Her mabari never strays.

She wiped her eyes, and he saw her soft small smile stretch her busted lip until it bled again. But she kept singing, repairing his broken heart verse by verse.

 

 _And there's Andraste's mabari_  
By the Holy Prophet's side.  
In the fight against Tevinter,  
That dog would never hide.  
They say the Maker sent him special,  
  


Cullen watched as she mouthed the words, glancing about, anxious that no one was disturbed. She caught him staring, her music drying up, drying up his heart.

 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, too low for him to tell if that was her voice. His heart was sure, his heart was _screaming at him_ to say something, to breathe her name, take her in his arms, something anything.

 

Speak you IDIOT!

 

But he couldn’t, awed, stunned, or just completely fucking floored that the woman he’d been searching for all day (all his life) was right now sitting right next to him and she _was the most beautiful creature the Maker ever made._

 

And Cullen couldn’t speak, couldn’t find anything comforting or charming to say except:

 

“You know, I always wondered what she looked like, Andraste.” His voice broke apart, but he powered through the emotion to finish his question, the best one he could ask to be completely sure. “There's all these images of pale lady with blonde hair but what if she was brunette? A redhead?”

 

Her sweet little gasp confirmed it, he knew that better than the sound of her voice. But as she rose her eyes to meet his, fresh tears welling within, she finished his thought and obliterated all doubt.

 

“What if she wasn’t pale after all?”

 

The man raised his hands, both of them, to frame her face, thumbs pressing into her cheeks to wipe away her tears. His eyes glowed in the dim light of the tent as the world and all its madness stopped.

 

She couldn’t believe it, she couldn’t not process. There he was, returned to life after dying in her heart. She felt like screaming for joy as she’d seen others do that day when reunited with a beloved one, but all she managed was to croak his name.

 

“Cullen?”

 

He nodded, smiling—and it was the only bit of sunshine she’d seen all day. “Evelyn.” He breathed.

 

“Oh Maker, Cullen!”

 

Her chair clattered to the ground, and suddenly his sat two people, Evelyn scrambling to press herself as close to him as was possible.

 

“Maker, Oh Maker,” She babbled, burying her face in his neck. Cullen only held her tighter. “I thought you were dead. I can’t believe…how did you find…Cullen!”

 

“It’s alright, I have you now. I’ve got you. It’s alright.”

 

Evelyn pulled away from him, framing his face in her hands.

 

Cullen had warm eyes.

 

And strong hands.

 

And that was all she cared to know.

 

**

  
She insisted on keeping him in her grasp at all times so he drove them home with only one hand, a fairly easy task considering. The national guard was deployed, directing relief efforts and traffic but it still took him two hours to get her place when it should have taken less than 15 minutes.

 

She succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep, their hands linked over his car’s center console. He was content to let her rest undisturbed, thumbing the soft skin of her hand as she slept. Once free of the gridlock, Cullen found the nearest pharmacy grocery store combo, stoking up on bandages and frozen pizza and ice cream, those being the only easily edible foods of note since the disaster started a run on every convenience store, grocery store, and pharmacy in the area.

 

She was still sleeping when they arrived so he carried her up the stairs finding she lived on the 5th floor of an ancient but remolded apartment building.

 

Even if he hadn’t seen the name Trevelyan on the door, he would have known it was her place for the piteous whining coming from the inside. He fumbled with her keys, the groceries, and her, opening the door after several tries, trying not to drop any of them.

 

The mabari growled menacingly, sniffing his mistress and someone not his mistress but covered in the scent of her blood.

 

“Easy Cousland, easy boy.”

 

Cullen set her on the couch as that growling turned to excited and frantic whines that snapped Evelyn out of her stupor.

 

“Eh? Pup?”

 

Instantly she was covered in 212 pounds of relieved mabari, and perhaps a liter or two of dog slobber. “Pup, puppy! Enough, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

 

Cousland yipped and whined.

 

_You are not okay! I heard the boom. I heard the sirens. I smell you! You are not okay!_

She tried to push Cousland off, but the mabari was determined to smother his mistress with his distress born affection.

 

“Cullen, a little help?”

 

“I’m sorry, love” He called from the kitchen, stuffing the food in the freezer. “He’s acting as my proxy for the moment.”

 

“Fereldens, ugh.”

 

Cullen returned with a towel for her face and a greeting for the dog, a huge bone he purchased earlier that day to bribe him should the need arise.

 

Cousland was not amused, rebuffing the toy in favor of sniffing the _male_ all over. Cousland nosed him hard in the crotch. Evelyn giggled, taking it as her dog’s over eager appraisal but Cullen knew what it was.

 

A threat.

 

He woofed once, indicating his begrudging satisfaction before snapping up the bribe/toy and chewing on it. He kept close though, no more than 3 feet from his mistress, ready to defend her should this _male’s_ intentions be anything less than honorable.

 

“He likes you.” Evelyn smiled.

 

“I’d really hate to see what he’d act like if he didn’t.”

 

“You wouldn’t have made it past the door.”

 

“Good soldier.” Cullen patted the dog.

 

Cousland barked in agreement.

 

“Evelyn are you alright? Are you hurting, what do you need?”

 

She shook her head, shifting on the couch to tackle him to her chest. “Just promise me if you have to leave you’ll come back.”

 

“Oh I’m not leaving,”

 

“What about your family? Oh Maker, what about mine?”

 

She pulled out her phone. “It got crushed, I’ve no way of contacting anyone.”

 

“It’s okay, cell service has been restored but it’s so jammed up it’s hard to get a call out. Do you have a land line?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Can we use your computer?”

 

“It’s over there in the breakfast nook.”

 

She held onto his hand when he rose to leave the couch, he kissed it in reassurance and she let it go, turning to TV to cut it on.

 

Every station replayed footage of the explosion, or had real time images of its aftermath, The Grand Cathedral of Kirkwall indistinguishable from a pile of construction rubble.

 

_At this time, no one’s stepped forward to claim responsibility._

_Some are blaming the attack on the Red Jennies…_

_…Qunari seperatists…_

_Mage rights groups…._

_Could this be a Darkspawn attack?_

Cullen sent quick emails to his sisters and brother and Raleigh letting them know of their safety.

 

His phone then buzzed in his pocket, a torrent of messages, texts, and emails flooding his phone as it finally picked up a steady signal.

 

He signed off and handed his phone to Evelyn. “Got anyone you need to call?”

 

“Yeah.” She took the phone and dialed her mother in Ostwick who was relieved but alarmed that her daughter called but from a number she didn’t recognize.

 

“I’m fine Ma, please tell Dad. Okay, I love you too. We’ll talk about it later. Okay, love you too. Bye.”

 

“All’s well?”

 

“More or less.”

 

She handed him the phone and he switched it to silent.

 

“Alone at last.” He said.

 

“Together at last.” She affirmed.

 

She crushed him to her again, afraid he might fly away at any second no matter his promises.

 

“We almost died today.”

 

“But we didn’t.”

 

“It might be easy for you because you’re a soldier and all but…”

 

“Oh no, love, it’s never easy. Trust me.”

 

“Then how are you alright? I feel like I’m about to shake to death.”

 

“I’m alright because you’re alright.”

 

She gulped and chuckled and gasped all at once before letting loose another sob into his torn shirt. Cullen simply wrapped his arms tighter, bringing them both to recline upon her couch in the relative silence of her apartment. The sirens below were sharp memory of the day’s events, but now they were far enough away to finally remove them from it.

 

“Voiduva way to meet don’t you think?” She asked. Her voice wavered but he didn’t need to see her to know she was trying to smile, he’d learned the cues and tics and inflections of it long ago.

 

“Just means we’ll have a story to tell our kids. Wait, I mean…not _our_ kids. Like together you and my kids, I meant your…your students! Your kids, those kids, not babies…”

 

Evelyn giggled, rising from his chest to take in his blush and awkward smirk.

 

Damn, he was fine. And she…

 

“Well, seems as good a time as any to address the dragon in the room.”

 

“That being?” Cullen looked puzzled.

 

“How do I look?”

 

“Like you’ve had a rough day. And I imagine I look much the same.”

 

“You know what I mean smartass.”

 

“Evelyn do you really think any of this,” He grabbed her face tenderly with his hands. “matters at this point?”

 

“Yes,” she shied away from him. “It matters, it always does. That’s why I was on that damn thing in the first place. Everyone runs away when they see me, or they make polite excuses as to why I’m not their type.”

 

“I have a type. It’s you. My type is: Evelyn Trevelyan.”

 

She snorted, giggling. “Stop being perfect.”

 

“If that’s the only flaw you find of mine, I am a lucky man indeed.”

 

“What flaws could you have?”

 

“Other than being a recovering lyrium addict and usually mistaken for a meat headed farm boy better for nothing more than to ‘look pretty’?”

 

Evelyn shook her head in disbelief, astounded anyone would think that way about him. “There’s far more to you than that.”

 

Cullen smiled gratefully, pressing his forehead to hers. “And that’s why you’re my type Evelyn,” He whispered. “No matter what you look like. Yet, just to get it out of the way: Maker’s breath but you’re beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing and I love each and every one of you.


	19. Cullen's Least Favorite Mabari

They dozed together on the couch, her chin in his chest, his resting in her hair. Cousland, though, beat them both to slumber, his doggy snores occasionally loud enough to wake them, prompting from them a fit of soft giggles.

She wriggled, pressing tighter to him, the couch and his arms her only tether to the world.

They woke in earnest around 5 am, the sky still dark, the fires of the Grand Cathedral finally cooled and quieted.

“Hungry?” He asked, voice dry and rough with sleep.

“Possibly. What should we eat? I can make an omelette if you’ve got eggs and some onions.”

“We’ve got pizza.”

The idea of pizza before noon was a little too daring for Evelyn. “Cullen it’s five am.”

He considered this before answering a breath later. “You’re right, ice cream it is then.”

Evelyn laughed before blurting out, “Maker’s breath I love you.”

Cullen paused, a newly formed stone in his throat making it hard to breathe. “Wow, it’s…it’s different.”

“What,” Evelyn felt she’d said something wrong or that feelings already expressed were somehow changed. “What’s different?”

“It sounds different with no, with nothing between…It sounds _real_.”

“It was always real.”

“No, I know it was. It’s just that, with the lyrium you hear things that aren’t there and you have to prepare yourself or train yourself to ignore them. And while I knew what you felt was real…hearing it without that buzz, the way your voice sounds when I can just hear your heart. Maker you are,” He sighed laying back against the arm of the couch.  “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Her mouth fell open, stunned by the confession before she recovered. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet Cullen?”

“You haven’t asked Evelyn.” He leaned closer, smirking just a touch to hide the stammer in his heart.

“I’m asking now.” She closed the distance, eyes fluttering, lips parted, breath mingling and…

_BARK!_

Cousland interjected his pointed snout between them, eager to get in on the action, or stop the action, or otherwise disrupt the action.

“Cousland!” They both shouted, almost getting a mouthful of mabari.

“Bed!” Evelyn commanded, pointing firmly to the disused doggy bed off in the corner. Cousland chuffed in disapproval before earning a similar chuff from his mistress. “Go!”

Whining, he left them.

“I swear that dog is such an attention w—“ Cullen capitalized on the opportunity, lest Cousland get protective again. He took her face in his hands and pressed their mouths together, crashing into a kiss that happened far too late for both their tastes.

He had strong hands and warm eyes, but his mouth was sinful, parting just enough, pressing just enough to be demanding yet patient. To leave her satisfied yet craving more. He came to her, but he made her press harder into him, drawing from her a moan that lit the heavens on fire.

Her hands snaked to the back of his head, his hair twisting between her fingertips. They fell back, trapping her between the couch and him, her sustenance coming from the curl of his tongue in her mouth. They slid together, fit together, their lips and tongues. She felt completed, righted. He felt nostalgia, not a first kiss but a five hundredth one. He’d done this before, either in his dreams or in his fantasies, but oh, he knew this woman. He knew the shape of her kiss and the curve of her hip as his free hand wound down the side of her body to grasp her there.

She moved, rolling her hips just slightly, just so, to let him know his touch was appreciated, that his touch _should continue_. Evelyn arced her body, rolling it, pressing her chest tighter to his. He let out a gasp and a grunt, his teeth nipping at her lip, moaning when she rolled again.

Her computer interrupted them this time, a chirruping noise indicating a new chat message. He groaned and she echoed his displeasure, breaking apart their kiss, panting, forehead to forehead.

“I’m sorry, got a little…um…That was really nice.”

“I believe that was a kiss.” Evelyn corrected, voice in some distant dream far from reality. “But I can’t be too sure, it’s all a blur.”

Cullen laughed above her, soft and sweet before leaning down to kiss her again with as much tenderness as the last kiss held passion.

The computer beeped again, making them both groan in frustration.

“Let me up loverboy.”

He leaned so she could address the noise while he addressed _pressing_ matters.

And Cousland.

Who sat straight up in his doggy bed.

Glaring at him.

“Look!” he hissed, keeping his voice lower than Evelyn’s typing. “I’ve been wanting to do that for far longer than I should admit so cut me some slack okay?”

Cousland growled.

Cullen growled back.

But both boys stopped when Evelyn returned.

“That was Sera. School’s cancelled today and tomorrow. Will you go into work?”

“No, I Command the unit, let me make a few calls and let them know they can stay with their families today and tomorrow as well. How eh…how’re you feeling?”

“Um…you mean like…?”

“I mean your…your arm.”

“Oh! My arm. Ah…whatever they gave me at White Spire’s worn off. It stings but nothing unmanageable. And I’m still hungry.”

They ate ice cream at six am instead of five making it a little more palatable for Evelyn. Then she stuffed 4 movies of no consequence into her DVD player letting the movies play while they kissed and dozed and kissed some more.

They woke in earnest around 2 p.m. Cullen checked the news for any new developments then promptly turned it off when Evelyn manifested a mild panic attack. They went to the drug store looking for more painkillers for her arm and leg. But he found the shelves cleared of Elfrootol and just about every other brand of pain reliever save the ones in pink boxes that are supposed to also help with cramps and bloating.

While Evelyn waited in the car, Cullen bought two boxes without batting an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With nothing to blow up, and no more will they/won't they meetings to draw out, I apologize if the story gets boring for a bit. You'll have to settle for drowning in UST and fluff and lame period jokes.


	20. Dreams

She ordered a new phone to replace the shattered one and paid extra for expedited shipping. Sebsung told her that she’d have her replacement phone by next Friday, forcing her to spend a week without it.

“Think of it this way.” Cullen kissed her, still hunkered down in her apartment, feasting on the last of the three frozen pizzas they bought as venturing outside was still an exercise in panic attacks and gridlocked traffic. “Anything I need to tell you,” he smooched her again. “I can just,” he pulled out his phone, kissing her again, typing a message without his eyes and just a thumb. “Message you and…”

Her computer beeped.

“And you can answer me there.” He nodded his head towards the computer.

“You could just tell me. You know considering you’re right in front of my face.”

“Hmm, I’ll consider it, now go.”

Evelyn huffed, rising from her couch and de facto base of operations, and read his message on her desktop.

_I livd yki_

She snorted, laughing.

“What’s so funny? I thought that was sweet.”

“Sweet? Read for yourself.”

Cullen looked down at his phone, reading the message he sent.

_I livd yki_

“Oh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “That was supposed to read something different.”

“Different like?”

“I love you.” He declared simply, the intensity of his gaze stealing the rhythm from her heart.

“I love you too, Cullen. I wish weekend hadn’t happened the way that it did, but I am glad I finally met you. Even though, looking at you, I feel like I already knew you, like we’ve met somewhere before.”

“Like somewhere in the city?”

“Maybe, can’t put my finger on it. The things you say, the way you say them. I could swear I’ve heard them before.”

“In your dreams perhaps? Dream of me do you?”

She hid her face with part of her hand, scrunching up her nose, the little tells that informed him of her embarrassment. “Maybe.”

“Tell me? And I mean seriously, not in a …suggestive…” his stomach fluttered, remembering that first/not first kiss. “way…I’m genuinely curious.”

“Can I get suggestive later?” She asked innocently, making Cullen start coughing.

“Aah um…er..”

Evelyn giggled and kissed his nose before drawing back to sit on her heels and consider his question.

“I do remember having a dream. I don’t remember much of it just that I’m dancing and it’s nighttime and I’m outside somewhere, somewhere beautiful.”

“Alone?”

“No…there’s someone dancing with me, and…” She laughed, eyes distant in the dream. “They’re a terrible dancer but I don’t mind it. What about you? Tell me your good dreams.”

Cullen thought for a moment, then a wide grin cracked across his face. “I’m in a room, and someone breaks a glass. Then I break a lot more glasses. Huge mess but I can’t stop smiling. A favorite dream.”

“And I’m not in it?” Evelyn pouted.

“Well not in that one. I have other favorite dreams though.”

“Is it time to get suggestive?”

“Maybe.”

She pulled on his collar bringing him down to rest atop her, while she claimed his lips in a searing kiss. He shifted, adjusting to the limited space of the couch, bringing his leg up to…

A half-filled water bottle toppled over, spilling its contents on the hardwood floor, water Cousland was eager to lap up in an attempt to help. Momentarily startled, focused on the dog, Evelyn grabbed Cullen’s chin directing his gaze and attention back to her, resuming the interrupted kiss, fervor restored, amplified.

She parted her legs to make room for him, allowing him to nestle comfortably in the space between. She never felt the need to be dressed up for him, or even dressed nicely. When they holed up in her apartment she wore athletic shorts and t-shirts two and three sizes too big. She wore sweatpants and sweaters and walked around barefoot. He made her comfortable in her skin, comfortable in her home too, remarking that the schlumpy housewear made her look cute. His hands slid under one of those over-sized t-shirts she wore now, gripping the skin underneath, appreciating the softness and the give of her flesh.

Their kisses were lazy and unhurried, no passion to rush, no burn to completion. She savored the taste of him, the feeling of his mouth molded to her, exulting in the way his lips parted or the sweet noise he made when one of her thighs pressed against his hip.

“Evelyn, Maker…I want you so badly…But I- I don’t…that is if you…” He dropped his gaze from hers trying to find a neutral place to land his eyes but discovering to his growing delight, every part of her ignited a need within him that made him desperate and aching.

“Cullen, I want you.” She whispered, lips close but not close enough, body close but never close enough.

He groaned, he descended upon her, lips seeking to devour. He allowed his weight to settle on her, easing down slowly, bringing the length of his body against hers, his excitement pressing against her ardor. Evelyn whined, thighs closing, hips rolling, ready waiting and wanting him.

“Cullen, please.” She begged. “More, I need you.” One hand fisted his hair lightly, the other wrapped around his back, hands flexing, needing more to scrape and scratch against. “Off. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

“You sound delightful when you beg though, my lady.”

Her breathing hitched, pulling in a sharp gasp.

Why did that sound so familiar?

“I don’t care just…please.”

His hands traveled higher, up the curve of her belly, and around the curve of her ribs and then…

He moved those strong hands to cup the heavy weight of her breast drawing from her a satisfied sigh.

“Maker… Evelyn. I’ve…I’ve definitely dreamed about this.”

“Make it a reality Cullen.”

He squeezed harder, thumb and forefinger closing on her nipple eliciting a sharp hiss he was eager to hear again. He kissed her harder, pressing his tongue deeper inside to claim more of her mouth as his. She writhed beneath him, thighs squeezing, body squirming, hips rolling. She was his and he was hers, each claimed and claimant in their own sweet turns. Cullen bucked his hips bringing them together, a moan tearing through her body, up her throat and out of her mouth.

“Please!”

“Off.” He commanded.

Over-sized t-shirts, baggy shorts, and yoga pants landed in piles on the floor, bras, boxer briefs, and panties joining after. He admired her body with this hands, squeezing and kneading her breasts, thumbing circles around her nipples, watching her eyes widen or snap shut whenever he touched just right or just right _there_.

She licked and sucked at his neck, leaving constellations of little love bites he was going to have a hard (or rather easy) time explaining when he went back to work.

“Maker, you’re going to leave a mark.”

“That a problem?” She panted, licking at another one of her triumphs.

“No, leave more.”

She indulged him, biting a little harder than before, drawing from him a cry that made her gush.

“I’m ready Cullen. Did you bring? If you didn’t, I have…”

While they were out, they stopped at his place long enough for him to pack an overnight bag of toiletries, extra clothes, and his laptop. He also threw in a box of condoms because he was always prepared and no matter how much he thought he knew her, some things you just can’t take a chance on.

He fished through the bag, left neglected by the side of the couch, finding what he sought, tearing the package open and sliding himself in, in one _long_ (she noticed appreciatively) draw.

With business handled, pleasure resumed.

Cullen leaned over her again, kissing her softly, murmuring against her mouth.

“Tell me you want me, Evelyn. Please. I need to hear you.”

“I need you inside me, Cullen—“

The stroke was smooth and deep, one easy slide and he was hilted fully within her. Home at last, like a missing part of him finally connected after ages lost. Their twin cries echoed in the quiet apartment, and neither cared about carried sound. Cullen shifted her, grabbed her by the hips and lifted them just slightly, moving her but barely moving himself. She screamed again, the new position sliding him deeper and sweeter within.

Her body was hot, Maker! Making him see the stars, the heavens, and her eyes. He started to move, light strokes and thrusts, adjusting to her heat, senses overwhelmed by her sensations. The sight of her, the sound of her, the feel, smell and taste of her still lingering on his lips made a powerful combination that threatened to end him far too soon.

She was glad of his tenderness, stretched so fully it was almost uncomfortable. It had been a while after all.

“Slower, please.” She asked him.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked stopping.

“No, you feel wonderful, it’s too good actually. Need a little time to adjust.”

He gave, she took, then she pushed and he pulled. They rolled together, worked together finding a rhythm that satisfied both.

“There, Maker! Yes, right there. Don’t stop. Cullen!”

Cullen grunted his approval and thrust harder, setting off little sparks of electrified pleasure that tingled all over with every deep strike home. He gripped her hips, holding her body right where he wanted, his knees dug into the couch cushions making him glad they weren’t leather. She was beautiful, she fit him beautifully, her body a tight caress for his own. She shivered and cried and screamed for him, everything about him was her perfect compliment.

“Evelyn, so good…” he lost his thought in his panting, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the image of her body bouncing under him otherwise he was going to…

“Cullen! Cullen fuck! I’m coming—!“

He didn’t need to see her now, hearing her, feeling her clench tight as she came around him brought him swiftly to completion in one thigh shaking thrust.

“Evelyn! Maker!” He grunted harder and louder, barking almost as he spilled. He still kept moving though, working her through more waves of pleasure, feeling her rippling lessen and lessen until it finally stopped.

Cullen collapsed, worked out and blissed out, but still summoning enough coherency to remove himself from her and the barrier that sheathed him, discarding it in the plastic grocery bag that served as the garbage.

“Holy Andraste that was—Are you okay?” She asked breathlessly. “Was that alright?”

Cullen kissed her sweetly. “Better than a dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've figured out where this is gonna go! Yay! Expect another 20-30k words and I hope to update this daily until it's done. No promises though. However one of the problems with figure out where you're going midway through the story, the first half and the latter half might look like two different kinds of story. Sorry. This was only supposed to be some sweet little fluff piece...it's more than that now and I hope you like where it goes.


	21. Agreements

Sometime overnight, they actually made it to her bed and Cullen finally got to see what that lingerie looked like with his own eyes, realizing it looked amazing on her but far better discarded on the bed, buried under twisted sheets.

 

They slept well together, no quirks or habits that hindered the other except…

 

“Leave…leave me!”

 

His nightmare startled her awake in the early morning of their last day together. The world wasn’t—couldn’t go back to normal, not after what happened. But people needed to earn a living and students needed to go back to school, so they would both return to work and try to return to life as normal as they could make it.

 

“Hey, Cullen,” She shook him. His eyes snapped open, wild and searching, he didn’t recognize this room or this bed. Yet he didn’t panic, the cool touch of another’s hand soothed him and reminded him that she was here and he was safe.

 

“Bad dream?” She asked.

 

“They always are, without the lyrium they’re worse.”

 

Pity flashed in her eyes before a playful smirk quickly replaced it. “Despite the bad dreams, was it a good morning?” She dangled the red and gold bra on her index finger, quirking a salacious eyebrow, asking without asking if he’d like the opportunity to remove it with his teeth again.

 

He placed a hand on hers, pushing away the bra and the offer, before cupping her face. “It’s a perfect morning.” He answered with a little soft and contented sigh. “I love you, do you know that?”

 

“And I love you. We should write a letter to that Appcove company and thank them or something. Think they’d give us free stuff? Like a vacation to the Par Vollen Islands or a weekend stay at The Winter Palace Hotel?”

 

“For stuff like that, they’ll usually pay for our wedding or something. Good publicity.”

 

“Oh? So when are we getting married Mr. Rutherford?”

 

“I was…that was just…I didn’t mean to insinuate….we haven’t even…my apartment’s a little bigger than…”

 

“Relax straw head, I was teasing. But I wouldn’t mind having a free wedding.”

 

They watched the television today, tuning into the memorial broadcast for the victims of the attack and Mayor Tethras’s address to Kirkwall and the rest of Thedas.

 

“I’m going to put our T.E.M.PL.A.R unit and the Chargers 131st Infantry Division on high alert after this. We may not be able to spend too much together until we know who’s responsible for this.”

 

“Will you have to go away to Ferelden again?”

 

“No, I imagine the Mayor and Chief Vallen will want to keep us close by. It’ll mean long days and nights for me. I’ll probably only have the energy to crash when I get home.”

 

“Do you have Veil’d installed on your laptop?”

 

“The video chat program? I think so.”

 

“We can use that, if you want to, just so we can see each other if we can’t do it like this.”

 

“Sounds like a plan. Or we can always…oh, you don’t have your phone yet.”

 

“It’ll be a week, here on Friday. I still have the desktop app too.”

 

“What will I do?” Cullen mocked a dramatic faint. “How will I survive without my lady’s words to get me through the day?”

 

“You can still send me messages, I just won’t get them until I get home from work. The real question is how will _I_ survive a) without a phone and b) unable to tell you throughout the day how much I’m thinking about you? And you can always crash with me, you don’t live that far away you know.”

 

“I noticed. That’s probably why you seem so damn familiar, we share a dry cleaners and a movie theater.”

 

“Did you go see that latest Zevran Arainai movie?”

 

“Antivan Crows? Andraste’s ass I did, I love his movies.”

 

**  


Evelyn started her work with the school day, meaning she was long gone when he got there at 8 am to deliver his handwritten note. He slipped the envelope under her door, hoping that Cousland was smart enough not to mistake it for a snack. He heard a soft bark and sniffing, than another softer growl.

 

“Don’t eat it, it’s just me.”

 

Cousland growled again.

 

 _I may eat it_ because _it’s you._

Realizing he was at the mercy of her mabari, Cullen employed his last resort countermeasure, dragon flavored doggie bones, a rare delicacy among dog treats.

 

He slipped one under the door and before his fingers could pull back from the gap between the door and the floor, Cousland snatched up the treat with a greed snap of his jaws taking all the bone and almost all of his finger with him.

 

Cullen deployed another and it was equally devoured.

 

Then another.

 

Then another.

 

Then he stopped.

 

Cousland whined.

 

_Hey, wait, I want more! I smell more, I know you have them!_

“Are you gonna behave and make sure mistress gets her letter?” Cullen slid another bone under the door but only half way so Cousland couldn’t get at it properly. The dog whined again, distressed that the delicious tasty flavor of a Ferelden Frostback was being denied him.

 

 _Okay okay, whatever you want!_ Cousland chuffed.

“Good boy.” Cullen pushed the treat all the way in, but instead of snapping it up quickly, Cousland gave a little lick to Cullen’s hand. A tentative handshake between men.

 

“Alright boy, I promise not to take her attention too much if you promise not to…eh…ahm…interrupt. Maker’s breath, I’m getting nervous talking to a dog.”

 

Cousland barked, sounding almost like a laugh.

 

_You got it bad buddy._

 

**

 

“Hold on wait…you want me to what? Your what?”

 

“I’m getting married.”

 

The Iron Bull, leader of the Chargers 131st Infantry Division, was a qunari made of muscle and pork fat, fueled on grain alcohol, and possibly one of the best, shrewdest, and sweetest soldiers Cullen commanded.

 

“I need you to be my best man.”

 

“Hold on wait…you want me to what? Your what? Iron Bull you’re getting married?”

 

“Yeah, you remember that guy, brought him to the Satinalia party last year, we uh…your desk.”

 

“That was you?!”

 

“It’s a tempting piece of furniture.”

 

“For the love of…”

 

“Wait, wait, hear me out. After what happened over the weekend we decided we don’t want to wait anymore. Life being too short and all that. He’s asking his best lady right now, and I’m asking you to be my Best Man.”

 

“When are …when are you getting married?”

 

“Saturday.”

 

“Saturday!?”

 

“Yeah,” Iron Bull laughed. “Completely paid for too. We met through a dating app The Lover’s Appcove, heard of it? Anyway, they agreed to pay for all the services including a planner so long as the guests use the app throughout the wedding to meet other guests and stuff.”

 

“And Krem doesn’t wish to be—“

 

“Oh, he is too, you and Skinner and Dalish, you’re all gonna be my best people!”

 

“I’m not sure that’s how that works…”

 

“Ahh…well…never been married before, learning as I go. So will you? You can bring that girlfriend of yours the office has been telling me about, what’s her name, Lavellan?”

 

Cullen sputtered on his coffee. “That was my ex Bull!”

 

“Oh right, I forgot.” Bull apologized too excited about his own wedding to remember the basics. “Will you?”

 

Cullen smiled, genuinely happy (if a bit bewildered) for his friend and comrade. “Sure Bull.”

 

**

 

Evelyn returned home to a mysteriously stuffed mabari and a sealed envelope under her door. Turning it over she saw her name in blocky, bold script.

 

“Where did this come from?” She asked, opening the envelope.

 

Cousland burped his answer, still sated from his early morning decadent treats.

 

**_Evelyn,_ **

****

**_You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave you last night, especially with the way you were kissing me goodbye. I thought about you on the car ride home, touching my fingers to my lips to make sure the feeling of you lingered there because I didn’t want to forget. This weekend was hard. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry or possibly get upset but I helped search through the rubble of the Cathedral, looking for you, convinced I’d pull out your body and never know it was you that I held. I couldn’t stand that, it made me sick with grief. I ~~was~~ am so in love with you and the thought of losing you before I could hold you in my arms almost killed me. I kept searching for you, I must have visited a million tents in White Spire looking for you and I had given up when I sat down. But the Maker sent me a miracle and that miracle was you. I am devastated that we met the way we did, but I’m so very glad we did meet. I can’t wait until I hold you again. Please be safe out there, we’ll be on high alert at the office, making routine sweeps of the city to prevent another attack. I’ll probably be running myself ragged, I will not allow those events to happen again. You have my word._ **

****

**_And my love._ **

**_Everlasting_ **

**_Cullen_ **

**

 

**Andraste’s Favorite Mabari is online**

 

_Your letter made me cry_

**AChantryMan is online**

 

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen._

_No it was a good cry. It was really sweet. You be safe out there as well, don’t make me have to come get you out there._  
  


_What? You riding on your horse to my rescue?_

_Yeah! Jackson’s a retired police horse so he’s used to riding through urban streets. And we stable him in the police barn, on the outskirts of downtown anyway, by the MetroPark._

**AltusPeacock is online**

_Evelyn? Is that you? Please say yes._

_Dorian?_

_Thank the Maker it is you. I’ve been calling you all weekend I thought you were dead._

_I didn’t die, I was there and me and my phone got smashed but I survived. I met AChantryMan. HOLY SHIT he’s AMAZING._

_I’m glad you’re not dead Sorora. I would have had to ask Maevaris to be my maid of honor and she is (if you’ll excuse the ghastly pun) a pale imitation of you._

_Your what? What? WHAAAAT?_

_I’m getting married Saturday and you get to be my maid of honor._

**AChantryMan is online**

 

_OH MY MAKER!_

_What? What’s wrong?_

_My best friend is getting married this weekend! And he wants me to be the maid of honor!_

Cullen deflated at the news, he didn’t look forward to attending The Iron Bull’s ceremony alone.

 

_That’s wonderful, and oddly coincidental. My friend is getting married on Saturday too. I was going to ask you to go but…_

**AltusPeacock is online.**

 

_You can wear whatever you want, so long as it’s tasteful. Try to keep it in the spectrum of fall color so nothing blue and for the love of the Maker you better bring that ‘ChantryMan’ of yours._

_I can’t he’s got a wedding to attend too._

**AChantryMan is online.**

 

_No, I’m sorry too. I was looking forward to seeing you in a tux or something nice. Maybe we can meet up after?_

**AltusPeacock is online.**

 

_So it’s all being planned and paid for?_

_Yes, all you have to do is bring your phone, download the app and message people with it._

_I think I can do that. ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its amazing how easier it is to crank these out now that I know where I'm going with it!


	22. The  One Where Evelyn Learns the Chant of Light is Lowkey Kinda Sexy

They talked off and on during the week—mostly off, just quick messages of love and affection whenever they could snatch them. Cullen was right, he did run himself ragged with his men, keeping vigilant eyes out for another attack or rumors of one.

 

She went to the doctor, she went to the grocery store, she put Cousland through his paces running him around and around the little park not far from her apartment. Anything to take her mind off missing him, as actually talking to him was a rarity. She hungered for him, spent every night of the week without him tossing on her bed or her couch, feverish for his touch and unsatisfied with her own.

 

Cullen felt the same sting, aggravated by a flare up withdrawal sickness, one that got so bad Samson made Cullen take a trip to the military hospital. Once released with a clean bill of health and exhortations to relax and take it easy, Cullen _still_ managed to make himself sick, heartsick. He left her whatever messages he could, but throughout the week he either got home so late or not at all—sleeping overnight in the barracks for a midnight or early morning sweep of the city—that he could never catch up with her.

 

Saturday Harvestmere 14 Digital 21:15

 

 _So what are you wearing?_ She sent him a quick message as she walked into Champion’s Hall, the swankest banquet center and restaurant in Downtown Kirkwall.

_A ridiculous tux that they didn’t have time to tailor properly because this is such short notice._ He responded, adjusting his red bowtie in the groom’s dressing room also located in Champion’s Hall.

_Take it off._

_I wish I could._

_…_

_Oh! You meant…! You tease! Well in that case my previous message still stands. I wish I could remove this infernal garment along with whatever you’re wearing right now as well. Which is?_

_Red, he insisted that I could wear whatever fall color I wanted before reneging on that and telling me I had to wear something red and cocktail length. Isa helped me find the dress but it’s so clingy. Doesn’t allow for any underwear._

Cullen made a strangling noise.

  
“You alright there? Bowtie too tight?”

  
“Possibly,” Cullen muttered, loosening his tie though in response to the sudden heatwave in the room.

 

“Thanks Commander, for being here for me. I’m getting married. Me. _Me.”_

“Yeah,” Krem said, fiddling with his phone trying to create a Lover’s Appcove profile. “Who’d a thought this big lug would stayed tied down,” Krem laughed. “Long enough to get married? Let alone to someone he met on a dating app. Speaking of, what the Void is a ‘prologue’ supposed to be?”

 

Per the contractual agreement all wedding participants had to sign, both sets of groom attendants had to make an Appcove profile and use it to connect with others to promote the service. Those without smartphones would have one graciously provided (that was of course GuardianSpirtlocked to prevent it from walking away from the venue.)

 

“It’s something you write to catch other’s attentions.” Cullen answered flicking through his messages with Evelyn. “See like this.”

 

Cullen showed Krem his prologue. “Easy, like that.”

 

Krem read through the prologue recognizing the passage. “You wrote parts of The Chant of Light as your prologue?” Krem asked. “No offense but don’t you think that’s a little boring?”

 

“I have my reasons.” Cullen smirked.

 

Cullen’s phone vibrated several times in quick succession.

 

“Alright everybody, get your game face on!”

 

A man named Carver walked in, clapping his hands together, looking more like a high school DragonBall coach rallying his players at half-time than Iron Bull’s Appcove Ltd.’s appointed wedding planner.

 

“Okay champs we don’t have time for a rehearsal, so we’re goin’ in raw. The Kirkwall Chamber of Commerce doesn’t want the absolute fuckery of last week to impact tourism. So they contacted Appcove to find a couple and throw them the biggest fucking wedding Thedas has ever seen since Princess Cecilia married Prince Stanton back in Peace 11:24! I am so excited to help you with your big day, it’s gonna be bitchin’ alright? You got a Best Man big guy?” Carver asked, punching The Iron Bull in the chest.

 

Bull gestured to the room, beaming with pride. Cullen, Krem, Dalish, Skinner, Barris, and Samson. “They’re all my best men.”

 

“I’m not a man!” Dalish answered petulantly, as she always did when someone referred to Bull’s Chargers as ‘his men’. Rocky, and Stitches were part of the regular guests, bowing out to allow Cullen and a few of his soldiers—Bull liked to joke they were honorary Chargers even though it was the Temps that employed them—a spot on the illustrious list of Bull’s Best People.

 

While Carver droned on about using the app during the ceremony—“Early, often, and always okay!”

  
Cullen flipped through the battery of messages Evelyn just sent him.

  
“See like this guy!” Carver gestured to Cullen. “Front and center, post up!” Carver raised his hand in the air, expecting Cullen to high five him.

 

He didn’t.

 

“Alright,” Carver clapped his hands, high fiving himself. “Good energy. I like you. You’re gonna be primo groom attendant number one, stand behind The Iron Bull please.”

 

Cullen grunted an assent, barely hearing, eyes still glued to his phone.

 

Evelyn’s messages contained a gallery of pictures that he eagerly thumbed through, anxious to swallow up any bit of her he could get.

 

There was a picture of a bare calf.

 

_I said._

Bare knee.

 

_I’m not._

Bare thigh.

 

_Wearing any._

Last picture in the photoset: an intimately familiar hip, waist, and thigh with red fabric rucked up high and nothing else but smooth unbroken, unobstructed skin.

 

 _Panties_.

 

Raleigh pushed him forward and out the door, following blindly behind The Iron Bull and into the hall where they’d meet their opposite attendants.

 

“Put yer phone away asshole.” Raleigh hissed.

 

Cullen, furious and aching, sent a quick message.

 

_When I lay eyes on you, no force in this universe is going to stop me from fucking you senseless._

Only moderately satisfied and outrageously flustered, Cullen stuffed his phone into his pocket offering an apologetic smile to his escort that he only looked up to see just now as the organ cued up the attendant’s march.

 

Evelyn Trevelyan greeted him, wide eyed and pulling furiously at the hem of her dress.

 

**

 

“Evelyn! What are you?”

 

“What are _YOU?_ ”

 

“I thought you were going to a wedding!”

 

“I am, this is the wedding!”

  
“Did we never say who?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Or where?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Psst! Hey, grab her arm you douche!” Carver hissed as the doors at the end of the banquet hall opened.

 

Cullen offered his arm and Evelyn linked hers with his, trying not to remember the last message he sent.

 

Considering this was a wedding planned with less than 7 days notice, the banquet hall was lavishly appointed with flowers, banners, and cameramen—getting footage for the fluff piece on the 11:00 o’clock news.

 

Guests filled the hall, strangers mostly, not too many people she recognized. Ms. DeFer was there, dressed like she could walk into a boardroom, a rave, or cocktail party and be celebrated at any of them. Sera and Blackwall were there too, her ‘dates’ as she thought she’d be attending alone.

 

Cullen, however, didn’t have time to scan the guests as he escorted the Maid of Honor down the aisle, too focused on the knowledge said ‘maid’ was actually a ‘minx’.

 

“I meant what I said.” He muttered as they parted on either side of the grooms. Evelyn looked at him, breathing heavily, squirming in her dress made of red fabric and desire demons.

 

This was the first wedding either had ever been to with an MC, Carver—no surprise there. He introduced the grooms and made them talk about themselves and how they met, making the ceremony seem more like a talk show… or better yet a dating show.

 

As was required, the attendants had to smile while they flipped through their phones sending messages to others using the app. Maevaris, Dorian’s other maid of honor scoffed, refusing to debase herself for commercialism. Evelyn giggled when Mae tried to remove her phone from her bosom on the sly, smiling excitedly at a new message and a new match.

 

Evelyn and Cullen performed their duties as conscripted spokespeople well, furiously messaging back and forth while Carver painfully extracted the life stories from Iron Bull and Dorian.

 

 _You have no idea what that dress is doing to me. When I’m done with you, I’ll have to carry you out of here._ He glared at her when he sent the message, trying to scald her with his words and that gaze.

 

_Oh yeah Mr. Chantry. Mr. I-make-my-prologue-the-Chant-of-Light?_

_You too? Do you know why I chose the Chant?_

_Because you’re a rich and wholesome Maker-fearing family man?_ She sneered at him, smile half-cocked on her face, thighs rubbing together trying to ease the ache he put there by taunting him.

 

_Do you know how long The Chant of Light is? How much stamina it requires?_

_What the fuck are you talking about?_

Cullen looked up from his phone as Carver started to ask Dorian about the specifics of Appcove, he drew his tongue along the curl of his top lip, stopping to tongue at that _special spot_.

 

He smiled, triumph glowing on his face when she almost dropped her phone.

 

_With passion’d breath comes darkness, but with many against Her, She finds His light untiring as it parts the Veil. Imagine me the, parting your Veil…with my tongue._

 

She dropped her phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ill today, extremely late chapter. That last bit of dialogue stolen shamelessly from Carver’s Legacy conversation with Isabela. Too good to pass up. :)


	23. The One Where Cullen Commits Eight Kinds of Blasphemy

“Amatus Imortalis,” Iron Bull bent his head as best he could with Dorian so close. He whispered the phrase into his new husband’s ear as the pair danced their first dance together, Carver gloriously silent for a change. “Sounds fancy.”

 

“It’s a bit of a mouthful yes, but no one could ever accuse Tevene of being succinct.”

 

“Do you know what they call husbands in qunlat?”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. No word because there’s no concept. We don’t belong to each other, we belong to everyone. You gave me something I never thought I could have before. Made me something I didn’t know I could be. And now I get to be that forever.”

 

Dorian nestled his face into his husband’s shoulder, sighing happily. “The things you say.”

 

“And you wanna know what’s weird?”

 

“Other than I haven’t seen my maid of honor or your best man in the last 30 minutes?”

 

“Well yeah, there’s that. I had no idea Boss Lady knew my Commander by the way, small world. Anyway, the weird thing is, this…all this, you and me, feels like we’ve done this before.”

 

“Knew me in another life did you amatus _imortalis_?”

 

“Kadan, I knew you in _all_ my lives.”

**

They couldn’t make it to the reception, each one outdoing the other in lewdness and innuendo on their phones until the very minute after the two grooms said “I do,” the pair made excuses to disappear, disappeared, and found the nearest linen and supply closet.

 

Her kisses were made of her teeth, nipping and nibbling at his mouth, pulling on his lip, biting hard enough to bruise. He hissed, enjoying the pinches of pain and sensation, only serving to harden him until he might tear through his pants.

 

“You are fucking divine in that tux, Cullen.” Evelyn gasped as Cullen gnawed at her neck equal parts lover and animal worrying at a tasty treat.

 

“Let me show you, then, how divine I am at fucking you Evelyn. I am AChantryMan for a reason after all.”

 

Hot, textured tongue dragged across her neck from her collarbone to her ear as Cullen puffed searing words into her ears.

 

“O Creator, see me kneel”

 

Her dress was off the shoulder, he pulled at the one strap keeping her decent, bringing it around the smooth curve of her shoulder, tongue following the trail of his fingertips.

 

“For I walk only where You would bid me”

 

She watched him worship, eyes clouded in a fog of lust fueled by her week long slow burning ache for him. “Yes, more.” She hissed as he pulled her dress down to reveal her breasts and waist.

 

He set his tongue to work, praying without words at her altar, tongue licking at the hard buds of her nipples, lips pulling and sucking at them until his cheeks hollowed and she screamed. His arm kept her upright, but he needed the use of both of his hands. He lifted her, clearing off a shelf of tablecloths, towels, and linen napkins to set her upon so that he may worship her properly.

 

“Stand only in places You have blessed”

 

He stepped back from her a minute, curious to see the delightful damage he wrought. Her dress was pulled down, the bottom rucked up, she was heaving, moaning, and staring at him, lipstick smudged, heels half off, legs wide open, center _dripping._

 

Cullen stared back at his dessert, licking his own bruised lips. She was a feast for his eyes, soon to be feast for his mouth.

 

“Sing only the words.”

 

He sank to his knees and pulled her thighs apart, his own private wishbone from which all his desires would be granted.

 

“You have placed in my throat.”

 

He didn’t start by teasing her, instead he took forked tongue to her core, tracing a slow line of fire across her tender flesh, yet stopping right before the crown.

 

Cullen worshiped while Evelyn sang the one word prayer of his name.

 

“Cullen!”

 

He pulled back from her, beginning his teasing in earnest.

 

“My Maker, know my heart

Take from me a life of sorrow”

 

He threw one leg over his shoulder, nibbling and licking at the soft skin of her thigh while his other hand reached to tease and toy with her breasts, pinching, grabbing, and kneading. Every so often, his eyes would wander to find her face, delighted in the almost pained expression she wore. She had to keep herself upright by bracing her hands behind her on the shelf, so all her pleasure hinged on his willingness to grant it. He pinched her on the thigh, and her eyes snapped to his. ‘Watch me,’ he mouthed as he descended on her again.

 

“Lift me from a world of pain.”

 

He lapped, drawing tongue around the straining bud of her pearl, swirling and sucking, pulling on it with his lips. A shaking hand fisted in his curls, drawing a long moan from him as her hand in his hair encouraged him further.

 

“Yes, baby please, fuck right there! Maker, fuck!”

 

He switched attentions, plunging his tongue between her folds, parting her sweet Veil, drawing from her a cry every time he curled his tongue inside her.

 

He spread her with his fingers, and dived again, focusing on her crown with long licks and short swirls. When her hips began to buck and the hand in his hair curled into a claw, he knew she was close. Instead of screaming, her voice came out in little short puffs, and the thigh on his shoulder tensed and flex, quivering.

 

“Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.”

 

“Cullen! Cullen! Fuck! Yes!”

 

She came, heels digging into his back, pushing him closer and deeper into her wetness. He lapped at everything she gave, groaning, savoring the bitter tang of her.

 

“Oh fuck! Oh Maker! Oh..”

 

He rose from her, his own knees shaking, palming at the bulge in his trousers.

 

“Flip baby girl,” he commanded.

 

She obliged, turning over to rest against the shelf on her stomach. She heard him curse, fumbling with the belt on his trousers before she felt hot velvet flesh press and slide against her, coating himself in her to ease his passage.

 

“Ready, sweetling?”

 

She bucked back against him, bumping her ass against his hips.

 

“Greedy,” He mumbled.

 

“Just fuck me please, please!” She begged him.

 

“Just for that, I’m going to make you wait,” He gripped himself, sliding deliberately up and down her folds but never pressing inside of them. She hollered and wailed, but he kept a hand on her hips to still her, controlling when and how he granted her pleasure.

 

“My Creator,”

  
He started slowly, his smooth head slipping between her and nothing else.

 

“Judge me whole.”

 

She was wet, soaking, burning. His knees trembled, body screaming at him to plunge home.

 

“Find me well.”

 

Inch by inch he speared her, drawing a moan from her so long and loud her voice gave out by the end of it.

 

“Find me well, within your _grace!”_

 

He drove forward harshly, jangling her so hard one of her earrings fell off.

 

“Maker! Evelyn! Fuck you feel so..”

 

She pushed back against him and set him off. He fucked her hard and unrelentingly, pistoning in and out of her, grunting like an animal, fucking her like an animal, loving every minute of it.

 

Her voice tore and broke apart, she clenched and squeezed him, gripped him, she matched every one of his strokes, racing him, beating him to completion.

 

“Maker! I’m..oh Fuck! Oh Fuck!”

 

Cullen, ever dedicated to the theme, bent over her, throttling back his thrusts for just a moment.

 

“Touch me with fire that I be cleansed”

 

“Cullen I swear to! Oh!”

 

He grabbed her by the hips and lost himself within her, pushing, punishing, feeling the sweat collect in the curve of his back from his exertions.

 

She came, crying out sharply, jerking her head back so fast he heard the bone pop.

 

“Evelyn..tell...tell me where.” He grunted, about to lose it himself.

 

“Anywhere, just oh please!”

 

“Are you s-sure...oh Fuck.”

 

“We handled that remember! Just come, come for me, come inside me, let me feel you fuck me pleas--”

 

Two deep, back breaking plunges and he finished inside of her, collapsing atop her, not really sure if he was crushing her and at that present moment, quite unable to do anything about it.

 

“Tell me,” he panted.  “I have sung to Your approval.”

 

She giggled, nudging him off her, shuddering at the feeling of him leaking from her. Claimed and owned.

 

She turned to kiss him, snatching a towel to clean up a bit. “I think if church were more like that. I’d go more often.”

 

Cullen blushed sheepishly as he adjusted himself, arms and legs wobbly and boneless feeling. “I hope the Maker doesn’t strike me down.”  
  


 She kissed him again.

 

“After something like that, He’d probably applaud you.”

 

They heard clapping outside, hooting and cheering. "That's my boy! You get 'er Commander."

 

"Samson!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I apologize if it's overdone, but Chant of Light!Smut is just SO GOOD. I CAN'T HELP IT.


	24. Citation Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Trespasser ahead in the longest chapter yet.

The Iron Bull and Dorian made promises to take a honeymoon after the stress of the terrorist attack on Kirkwall died down. Chief Vallen kept them on high alert still, but allowed her soldiers a little more rest than she had the week before. Cullen could actually return home now, and resume the semblance of a normal life with his girlfriend.

Her new phone came pre-installed with a new app—Vinstagram—she made him install it because reasons, and she used it now to shame her elven coworker.

 

#shessupposedtobegradingpapers #idoalltheworkaroundhere

 

There was a picture of Sera, hunched over a computer in a classroom, frowning, and looking like she was typing furiously.

 

#shesbeenatthisforanhour #Mr.Blackwallhasntnoticed #toobusymackinonMs.Montilyet

 

Another picture of more of the same, camera cocked at an odd angle, like Evelyn was trying to hide that she was taking these pictures. A taller man was in the frame leaning against the wall casually, chatting up a pretty lady with a clipboard in her hand.

 

#ohshitivebeencaught #ifidiepleasefeedmydog #iloveyou

 

Another picture, Sera swiveling madly in her chair pointing to her screen.

 

#shessayinsomething #talkingaboutgreenholesalloverthedas #conspiracytheories #shestillsupposedtobegradingquizzes

 

Sera, pointing at the computer again, face like thunder.

 

Cullen laughed, day brightened by Evelyn and her co-workers’ shenanigans. He enjoyed hearing about her day with her students and her horses, hoping he might one day get to meet all of them.

 

“Commander, a word.” Chief Vallen poked her head into his office, beckoning him with a steely glare and a concerned look. He put away his phone and followed after her.

 

**

 

He had no more than 5 voicemails waiting for him as he left work for the day.

 

_Oh my Maker! Cullen! Call me! Call me now!_

_Cullen? Why haven’t you called me? Are you on a mission again? You need to call me right now AhmiMAKER!”_

_I swear to shit Rutherford if you don’t call me back in the next 30 seconds._

_Okay are you just doing this to tease me now, I really REALLY need to speak with you._

_FUCKING FUCK FUUUCK THERE’S A TRAVELING SKYHOLD EXHIBIT THAT’S GONNA BE IN KIRKWALL TOMORROW AND WE NEED TO GO!!_

Cullen called her back immediately.

 

“Are you serious?!”

  
“Yes! It’s super friggin’ popular so it’s one day only and Cullen we HAVE to go.”

 

“Okay, alright sure, we’ll go.”

 

The Kirkwall Museum of History was one of those buildings that got used in every movie ever shot in the city. It was close enough to downtown to feature the city in the background shots, yet far enough away from downtown’s center to be immune to city traffic at rush hour.

 

It was a one day only event, the exhibit traveling from city to city, capitalizing on the never ending fascination with the Inquisition Wars and the larger than life characters who fought in them. The War was the subject of literally ages worth of study, restudy, re-examination, exhumation, films, books, cartoons, videogames, art, and just recently Deep Roads & Darkspawn published an entire role playing campaign centered on the time period.

 

Evelyn, student of history as she was, was enamored with the Inquisition Wars. She made it her job, to the point of near crippling obsession, to know every little bit of every little detail of the war and it’s combatants, right down to having blueprints of Skyhold’s kitchen framed and hanging in her own.

  
She skipped up the steps to the museum, looking no different from the children there to visit right down to the sun shaming smile she wore on her face.

 

“Cullen! I am so excited. Please tell me you’re just as excited!”

 

“I’m excited too, love.” Cullen kissed her, lying. He would be excited, he should be, but he felt the mother superior of all headaches coming upon him and no amount of pain reliever was making go away. It’d been building in his head all morning, and he was sorely tempted to cancel their plans, but the exhibit was only for today so if they were going to go, if she was going to have her chance to experience Skyhold, it would have to be today. He swallowed his pills, swallowed the grimace of pain, and walked into the building.

 

At least his heart was lightened by her joy.

 

They purchased audio tour guides to accompany their trip through the exhibit. Through the wireless headphones they heard the voice of an older woman, raspy and deep.

 

_“Tis most pleasing that you’ve decided to enhance your Skyhold experience with our audio supplement. I will be your virtual guide through the treasures and histories of Skyhold during the Inquisition Wars.”_

 

Cullen pulled one of his headphones off. “I don’t like this woman already, she sounds like an insufferable know-it-all.”

 

They passed through the parts of the exhibit detailing the background information of Orlais and Ferelden, ignoring them in favor of heading right for the good stuff: The Inquisitor and her Inner Circle.

 

The couple came upon a large portrait of a woman clad in light armor, back turned to the viewer, overlooking a mountain valley, a tiny village below. Her left hand glowed with an ethereal green light, clutching a red bow. Behind her followed a trail of various figures, some humans, some elves, a qunari and a dwarf. They too had their backs to the viewers and looking at their differing styles of clothing, they all came from different walks of life, yet they were united, rallied behind the single woman at their head.

 

The info plate at the bottom of the portrait read: _After the explosion of the Great Conclave in Dragon 9:42, the Inquisition was established to bring peace to the war torn lands, the Herald of Andraste as its leader._

Evelyn stepped closer to the picture, drawing as near as the velvet rope that sectioned it away would allow, her hero come to life in a picture so near she could touch.

 

“Oh Maker that’s her!” She wiggled in her shoes, giddy, she squeezed Cullen’s hand and beamed at him, happy almost to tears. “I am so happy you’re here with me.”

 

Cullen smiled back weakly, gazing at the portrait finding himself drawn not to the Herald but to the figure behind her. A man in a red cloak. He had his hand on the Herald’s shoulder, and they were the only two in the portrait who touched, everyone else standing close but separated. Evelyn tugged on his hand and he followed.

 

_“Though her name has been lost to time, we know the Herald of Andraste was a noblewoman, hailing from the Marcher city of Markham. She was the only survivor of the Conclave, sent there to represent her family’s interests in the mage/templar conflict.”_

Evelyn coughed, rubbing her throat, feeling a sharp sting there that faded quickly. A loud noise like a woman’s shout startled her, but no one else seemed to hear. She dismissed it as a temporary malfunction in her headphones, she adjusted the sound and continued.

 

He thought she’d be babbling on and on about this artifact or that tidbit but she kept eerily quiet, seeming to absorb all the information as she saw and heard it. There was a large display case in the middle of the next room, a model replica of Skyhold. They stared down at it while she pointed out the kitchens, the dungeons, the courtyard and the barn.

 

“The Grey Warden slept there and here’s the Herald’s Rest, a tavern.”

 

“It says here though that Herald’s Rest was the infirmary.” Cullen pointed to one of the numbered buttons that corresponded to an information plate. Sure enough it gave a little blurb that indicated Herald’s Rest was indeed the Infirmary.

 

“It’s wrong. They sang there, and drank there, members of the Inquisition went there to have a good time. It wasn’t a hospital, that was on the other side…” She traced her finger from there up the stairs down the battlements to a broken tower with a collapsed roof and her finger stopped.

 

“The hospital was there love?”

 

“No…” Evelyn shook her head. “This tower was important. But it wasn’t the hospital.”

 

“How important could it be if the roof was collapsed? The Inquisitor certainly didn’t like whoever slept there.”

  
Evelyn shook her head.

 “No, he needed it open. She knew, closed spaces make him…” She lost the thought and continued to trace with her finger, finally landing on a nondescript building by the barn. “There, the hospital was there.”

 

“How odd they got that wrong.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Evelyn felt a sharp stabbing pain in her left arm. “Ah!” She hissed, shaking her arm.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Ever since the blast it hurts on and off. I have to take medicine for it but sometime the pain just shoots like something crawling under the skin.”

 

He rubbed the offended arm, and she smiled at him, forgetting the tingling feeling of everything below the elbow.

 

Cullen bit his lip, headache pounding in time with each step he took. _Just bear with it,_ He thought, coaching himself, but as they ventured further into the exhibit, it just got worse and worse until his head felt like it was seconds from popping.

 

“You alright? You’ve been awful quiet.”

 

“Just listening to you,” he waved away her fear with a smile.  
  


 **

“Holy Maker are you seeing this?”

 

The next room was taken up by the battles the Inquisition fought and the centerpiece, a huge wooden table maybe 12 feet long, carved from a single piece of wood and covered in an enlarged map of Orlais and Ferelden.

 

“The War Table.” Evelyn said breathlessly, “You think they, the Inquisitor and Her Commander I mean, you think they ever…you know made it a Love Table?”

 

“No, that’s ridiculous…” His headache flared again.

 

The next room was titled the Inner Circle and Evelyn practically hummed with excitement.

 

_This room contains the personal artifacts of the Inquisitors trusted friends, allies, and advisers. Like hers, their names have also faded in the face of time, but their contributions to the war remain everlasting._

They had the Grey Warden’s sword and shield.

 

The Storyteller’s crossbow “Felicia”.

 

“Who names their crossbow?” Cullen asked.

 

“Who names their crossbow _Felicia_?” Evelyn asked back.

 

“Well, what would _you_ name a crossbow had you the chance?”

 

“Bianca.”

 

There was an ancient looking clipboard complete with candle and inkwell for the Ambassador.

 

The Spymaster had a little figure of Andraste and a taxidermied crow.

 

She felt sad looking at the wide brimmed hat of The Assassin but laughed at the mock-up of a jar of buzzing bees for The Archer.

 

The Enchantress owned a beautiful headpiece embroidered with silver spun thread, decorated with pearls and other precious metals.

 

“Vivienne would love this I bet.” She remarked errantly.

 

The Seeker’s display was a pile of books covered in unreadable runes. ‘prayer devotionals’ the info box read and Evelyn snorted with laughter. “Those are _not_ prayer devotionals.”

 

“Something else they got wrong? Well Ms. Evelyn what are those?”

  
Evelyn whispered the answer in Cullen’s ear, delighting in the bright shade of red he turned. “Ok, I’m with you on the hospital and the crossbow but that’s just too much. No way a _Seeker_ would be an avid reader of that, they’re like holy warriors. There’s no way.”

 

“I’m just sayin’, the Seeker probably read the shit out of those books.”

 

Towards the end of the room and the end of the exhibit she found the display for The Mercenary: a huge double hafted war axe as big as Evelyn was tall.

 

_“The Mercenary was a qunari who brought with him his band of killers-for-higher. When the Inquisitor sacrificed them to retain qunari support, The Mercenary swore vengeance in his heart. He betrayed the Inquisitor two years later during a qunari invasion, forcing her to kill him, while his lover, the Magister, watched on in apathy.”_

Evelyn’s arm pulsed, she shook out her hand again, upset she left her pills behind at home.

 

“Wow, kinda brutal.” Cullen remarked.

 

“I can’t believe this, I’ve read nothing of this in my books. Where are they getting their information? That seems so wrong. Like really, egregiously _wrong_.”

 

She felt a stone settle in the pit of her gut, unmoving, a sinking, sucking, dreadful feeling pulling at her stomach, making her nauseous.

 

“Well you know how Crestywood can distort history in favor of dramatic license. And it’s been what, 1100 years since then, new information is bound to crop up.”

 

“Maybe…but I know…” She sighed, smile falling off her face. “Maybe you’re right.”

 

She pushed passed the display coming to the final one of the inner circle, The Magister.

 

“This is the last?”

 

“Yeah, The Archer, The Assassin, The Grey Warden, The Ambassador, The Spymaster, The Enchantress, The Seeker, The Mercenary, The Storyteller, and The Magister. The Commander and The Inquisitor are in the next room over. 12. That’s all of them as I recall.”

 

“No…there’s one more…I ...I can’t remember his name.”

 

Looking back to The Magister there was a large staff inside the display case with a white orb sitting atop it, held in place by twisting pieces of wood made to look like branches. Next to the staff hung a delicate looking piece of jewelry, it was shaped like an old fashioned pocket watch but inside were two beautiful purple crystals.

 

_“The Magister was a mage from the Tevinter Imperium, come to the Inquisition to safeguard Imperium interests. This amulet was one-of-a kind custom made piece of jewelry, a testament to the Magister’s reported extreme vanity. He took a lover, the Mercenary, yet when the Inquisition ended, the Magister returned home to his wife and family, choosing to forget past dalliances.”_

“Okay are you fuck—No! No that is totally…ah fuck!” She cursed loudly, shaking her hand again, prompting a museum guard to give her a questioning look.

 

She angrily stomped away from the case making her way towards The Commander.

She floated toward his display, pulled on red strings, a moth to a flame, a magnet to its pole. The red fur surcoat inside the case looked soft and luxuriant, while the lion’s helm beside it, mouth open in a roar, bespoke strength, honor, and dedication.

 

The both of them, Cullen too—also inexplicably drawn there—pressed against the glass, examining every detail.

 

_The Commander was Ferelden born, a Templar of the highest rank and decoration. He commanded the Inquisition’s forces, leading them personally to victory in the Arbor Wilds and again during the final battle. It has been suggested by many sources of folklore and songs extending into current popular culture that the Inquisitor and her Commander were involved. New scholarly research indicates that these were just salacious rumors. The Inquisitor and the Commander were actually bitter enemies, their conflict spilling into their personal lives when the Inquisitor forced him to continue taking the drug lyrium, then used in Templar religious rites._

_After the Inquisition disbanded. The Commander fell victim to his addition, succumbing to lyrium madness alone and friendless in the streets of Val Chevin._

“No!” She pushed back so hard she stumbled and fell. Her violent reaction turned the heads of several patrons who looked at her with varying degrees of confusion and annoyance. “No, that’s definitely not right. That’s no…that’s not. She’d never…that’s not right!”

 

Evelyn shook her arm, feeling the injury prickle and sting. It hurt again, hadn’t stopped hurting since she walked in the door.

 

“Love? Are you alright?”

 

“No,” she ground out, angry and hurt this exhibit was turning out to be nothing like she’d hoped. Miss-information, missing information, everything here was wrong.

 

She pushed passed Cullen and into the final exhibition room saved for the Inquisitor herself. Once she would have been thrilled to be here among her things; her books, her scrolls, her armor and her weapons. Now that excitement bled away, replaced with sickening dread.

 

The info plaques detailed how she was a tyrant, conscripting mages, forcing them into a partnership with the Inquisition little better than slavery. She executed her enemies with abandon, and gave the rite of tranquility to any mage who displeased her. She allowed the Empress of Orlais to be murdered and set up her cousin on the throne. She had the Grey Wardens banished from Southern Thedas and some even suggested she had the Champion of Kirkwall killed, disguising the murder amidst the chaos of the battle at Adamant Fortress.

 

“No…not right…She’d never…”

 

_You, yours, yearning, breaking, broken. She’s here and you’re here, twisting and tangled. But he’s here too, together you tighten._

 

Evelyn’s chest constricted, her breathing came in shorter and shorter gasps. She reached low, looking for Cousland’s collar, her habit whenever she suffered from an attack.

 

“Evelyn, you’re not alright.”

 

“No…” she shook her head, tears welling and falling down her face.

 

“Okay, love, let’s go.”

 

He wrapped an arm around her, forgetting the blinding pain in his head, and led them toward the emergency exit door, not even bothering to walk back to the proper exit.

  
They stepped through the door and emerged on the other side…

 

Into a bright meadow caught at a perfect moment of sunset.

 

“Wait…wha…”

 

There were statues, figures frozen in various poses; action or cowering in fear. But all of the statues were qunari and all of them facing in one direction.

 

Towards a bright portal, like a mirror and a door in one.

 

Before that portal stood another figure, this one made of pale flesh, not stone, with the pointed ears of an elf. The figure turned, clad in ancient armor, and crossed with an animal pelt, a wolf’s, like a bandolier.

 

Cullen’s head exploded in pain and he fell to his knees groaning, Evelyn dropped with him, her arm burning and stabbing and throbbing like it had the day the Chantry exploded.

 

The elf walked toward them, and with a blink of his eye, Cullen fell to the ground silent while the pain in her arm dissipated but not wholly disappeared.

 

“Hello Evelyn,” the elf said, voice low and rich, the cultured tones of a scholar. “It is good to see you again.”

 

There were 13 leaders of the Inquisition, this she knew for sure. She remembered him now, she remembered his name now, the one they forgot about, missing from the Inner Circle:

 

The Apostate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	25. Immutable

Evelyn screamed backing away from the elf, pulling at Cullen’s unresponsive body, urging him to wake and run.

 

“What did you do to him? Did you kill him, Maker! Did you kill him?!”

 

“I take it you do not remember me?” The bald elf remarked sadly. “Be at ease Evelyn, my name is Solas and I mean neither of you any harm.”

 

Evelyn blinked at the elf, tears drying up, fear and confusion vying for the expression on her face.

 

“What did you do to him, I swear if you…”

 

“He is merely sleeping, overwhelmed by too much too soon.”

 

“Overwhelmed by what?”

 

“His memories.”

 

“What are you talking about? Where are we, why aren’t we in Kirkwall, what is going on, who are you?”

 

“I am Solas, as I have said. And I am come to see my old friend again, though it seems she does not remember me.”

 

“You aren’t my friend! I don’t know you! I’ve never met you before!”

 

“In this life? No you have not. Things change every turn, sometimes those changes are vast and wide reaching and you don’t even resemble the form you were before. Other changes are smaller, little quirks barely recognizable. And yet,” Solas smiled down at Cullen and the protective arm Evelyn threw around him, shielding him with her body. “As everything changes, some things remain immutable.”

 

“Start making sense you asshole!” She picked up a rock and threw it at him, he dodged it with a smirk.

 

Solas chuckled. “Yes, somethings indeed never change. We are in place called the Crossroads, a space between the Fade and the Real World as you know it.”

 

“No, we can’t be, we stepped through a door not an eluvian. We should be in Kirkw—“

 

Solas gaped.

 

Evelyn gaped back.

 

“How do I…how do I know that—‘eluvian’?”

 

“Your past memories are bleeding through to your current form. What else can you recall?”

 

“I can’t recall anything there are just things I know, things I feel, and things I know are wrong. That museum was wrong, everything in there just _wrong_. I know that’s not what happened and yet I can’t tell you why.”

 

“Also expected, the mind would collapse if it were required to process the memories of every life lived before. Sometimes past lives bleed through, sometimes they do not. This time, the process remained incomplete.”

 

Solas offered her a hand up and off the ground but she batted it away, keeping Cullen—still unconscious—close to her.

 

“Even if I did believe the shit about past lives, why then? Why are you here? Why are we here? Just to tell me all those hunches I’ve had were right?”

 

“No, it was to warn you.”

 

“Warn me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It is as you say, barely anything in that ridiculous exhibit is truth. I know the truth, witnessed it with my own eyes. You and all your loved ones living happy and contented lives, dying peacefully, your souls resting sweetly together in your own little uthenera until it was time to wake again. I alone remained unchanging, working slowly but surely as the world you loved changed and changed again. And now you are here to finish the fight you were destined to fight.”

 

“Fight? What fight?”

 

“He took many forms before, but now you know him as Corypheus.”

 

“Ahh! Ah!” Her hand felt like a knife had been run through it, slicing up the arm, cutting through her shoulder, up her neck and into her brain.

 

Solas waved a hand and her agony dimmed a bit. She held tighter to Cullen, determined to protect him, realizing slowly that she believed this Solas; that he was a friend and he wasn’t going to hurt them.

 

“When you encountered him last, you sent him into the Fade, banishing him ostensibly forever. But your Enemy was a tenacious one, He always is. Crawling and fighting his way back for the last almost 1200 years. No longer content to pretend to godhood, instead he wants to tear down the world and everything in it. He has simmered long in his rage, his vengeance the only thing keeping him alive.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” She sputtered, crying. “What can I do?”  


“You have friends, Inquisitor, allies in whom you once trusted. Trust in them again.”

 

“No! You! You’re the one with the powers! You help me!”

 

“I cannot.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I still have work to do.”

 

“What in the Void do you mean?!”

 

“While you slept, I changed things, tiny things, working my way to their inevitable conclusion. In my time magic was everywhere. In the time we shared together, magic was dying. In this time magic is no longer dead, but it isn’t the magic of my time either. It is still here, buried in minds that could remember them if the right tools were given unto their hands, but science has replaced magic now. And it is everywhere as I once desired magic to be. The elves are not as we were but they are not the slaves and cringing ignorant things they were before either. And I would not have Corypheus ruin the rest of my plans by destroying everything.”

 

“That's bullshit! If you’re so powerful," Evelyn spat with a sneer. "If you know so damned much why can’t you destroy him? Why me? What can I do that you can’t?”

 

Solas sighed. It was good to see her again. To see that she was well and happy. Her heart still unchanged, as stout and as giving as it was when he knew the form that came before. But it was time to shatter that happiness.

“My friend,” He said sadly. “You still have the Anchor.”

Evelyn’s entire left side sparked with flashing, shooting, blinding pain. She heard a crackle, felt her skin split, looking down in horror at her arm that now glowed green at the palm. Evelyn screamed and screamed breaking Solas’s heart the same way her cries did long ago.

 

“I am sorry to leave you this way, but things are moving too quickly. And I am so sorry that I cannot help you more. But,” He glanced to Cullen, nodding his head solemnly. “You have all you need.”

 

Solas walked away from her, walking toward the portal, leaving her with her pain and more questions than answers.

 

Just like before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did my dumb little dating app fic turn into this?  
> HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?


	26. Ostagar Mike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me at mirabai0821.tumblr.com

His hands were on her face, he pleaded with her, straddled her to keep her still as she thrashed.

 

“Sweetling, sweetling please, breathe! It’s alright, just breathe!”

 

Her wild, rolling eyes finally focused, finding him through the fog of her terror.

 

“Evelyn, Oh Maker, are you alright? C’mon love, breathe okay?”

 

He took a deep breathe, imploring her to mimic him.

 

She obliged, sucking in a deep, steadying breath, eyes focused on his, body still, calming, quieting.

 

She did not burst into tears, she was composed of them. All at once, water flooded her eyes and streamed down her face, crying in loud, heart rending, soul breaking sobs.

 

She reached for him and he met her, pulling her into his arms, allowing her to cry and cry and cry harder, understanding the pain of a nightmare made real and then unmade.

 

“It’s okay, it was just a dream.” He soothed, drawing his hand down her hair, kissing the top of her head.

 

When Cousland came to investigate, Cullen didn’t mind with the mabari leapt upon the bed, resting his head in his mistress’s lap, whining softly.

 

“A dream?” she choked.

 

“Yes, only a dream. Do you want to talk about it?’

 

In her tears, she forgot more than she remembered. Looking down at her hand, it stung but only a little, like pins and needles after laying on it the wrong way. It didn’t burn or stab anymore, the pain from the dream ended, details forgotten with every waking moment.

 

“We went to the museum. It was awful. My arm hurt so bad, like the pain was taking over me. Killing me.”

 

Cullen clutched her harder. “You’re fine, you’re just fine.” He cooed, more for himself than her. “We went to the museum, you loved it. We got Cousland from your place and came here to mine. You told me I had ugly curtains. We made dinner together, you dropped a plate of food and Cousland ate it. We shared from mine. We watched the news, then went to bed. We made love and fell asleep together. I am here, my love. And you are safe. Always.”

 

Her breathing returned to normal, comforted by the timber of his voice and Cousland’s soft fur under her hand.

 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you to sleep.”

 

“Don’t apologize.”

 

They sat up in his bed, resting her head against his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heartbeat. She’d never been to his place before, and, admittedly, his curtains were ugly.

 

“They are really ugly you know.”

 

“You’ll just have to get me better ones.”

 

“Why am I buying you curtains? Why aren’t you just coming to live with me?”

 

“You live in a studio.”

 

“So do you asshole.”

 

Cullen laughed. “I love you so, so much you know.”

 

She smiled, feeling her heart rate return to normal. “And I you. Always.”

 

The sky was still dark, and Cousland, lazy thing that he was, fell asleep in her lap. “I like how this feels.” Evelyn murmured into Cullen’s neck. “You, him, and me.”

 

He did too.

 

So long as she was close, he could sleep. Usually he needed his pillow adjusted a certain way, or his fan centered just right, or his TV at the most specific volume and brightness before he could even attempt a restful, dreamless sleep. Since meeting her, that list of peculiarities shortened down to just one: the presence of her in his arms. She was a weight that grounded him, heavy and comforting. Since quitting lyrium, he felt adrift, lost without the soothing familiarity of a hit in the morning, a hit at noon, and a hit right before bed. Cullen was a soldier used to a regimented life. His life revolved around that schedule, given purpose by the routine.

 

She replaced that purpose.

 

She _became_ that purpose.

 

Cullen held Evelyn in his arms, upright, back leaning against his headboard and he drifted off to sleep, requiring only her comfort to succumb to his own slumber.

 

And before he fell completely into sweet rest, a final thought startled him, almost to waking.

 

_I cannot live without her._

_I_ will not _live without her._

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!

 

Cullen jerked awake, reaching for the pistol under his pillow before realizing that he kept it locked away now.

 

“What? What’s that?” Evelyn asked, waking.

 

“I don’t know, stay here.”

 

Cullen rolled out of the bed, kneeling before his locked gun safe, turning the tumbler to the right combination to release it.

 

THUD THUD THUD!

 

Cousland growled, hackles raised.

 

“Stay here boy. Guard her alright?”

 

The dog whuffed in acknowledgement.

 

“Good boy.”

 

THUD THUD THUD!

 

He heard someone fiddling with the door, trying to jimmy the lock open. He heard muffled cursing, a male’s voice.

 

“Sonofafuckin—“

 

“Who’s there!” Cullen shouted.

 

“Cullen, open the fuckin’ door mate!”

 

Cullen slid the security chain off the door and undid the deadbolt. He opened the door still wary, his pistol pointing in Raleigh Samson's face.

 

“Easy easy! Fuck!”

 

“Raleigh, what in the Void—“

 

Samson pushed passed him into Cullen’s apartment. “Get yer shit we gotta go.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Have you gotten none of my messages? I been callin’ you all night fuck!”

 

Raleigh headed toward Cullen’s room.

 

“Samson! Stop! Wait, I’ve got…”

 

“Cullen? Is everything okay?”

 

Evelyn appeared in the doorway, clad in nothing but the white sheet of his bed.

 

“Ho shit!” Samson shielded his eyes with his hand. “Sorry mate, guess I understand why you didn’t answer. ‘Scuse me miss, but if you’ve got clothes, put ‘em on and be quick about it.”

 

“Raleigh Samson what in the FUCK are you---?”

 

“There’s a tear in the Veil!”

 

The full weight of the code phrase settled on Cullen, fear superseding all other emotions.

 

“Evelyn, grab your clothes and Cousland’s leash, we have to go.”

 

“Wha? What I don’t under—“

 

“Don’t argue and don’t wait. Go! Now!”

 

She never heard him yell, never even heard him raise his voice. She’d never seen him angry or scared but she saw both emotions now in his fiery stare, imploring her to move her ass. She knew he was a soldier and she could believe it from the way he folded his socks and categorized his fridge by food group and expiration date.

 

But the martial side of the soldier, that part of him required to kill, she never saw, understood, or even believed he possessed until now.

 

She moved, tearing back into the bedroom to throw on her bra, panties, t-shirt, and jeans.

 

“Sit rep?” The Commander barked.

 

“Green holes, all over the city, monsters pouring out of them. Huge green hole, hovering in the sky. Moving. Ostwick, Markham, Wycome, all fucking destroyed. Reduced to rubble in a matter of hours and Krikwall’s next. Tethras has called a state of emergency, Vallen issued the order. We’re all gathering at The Redoubt now.”

 

“The Redoubt?”

  
Evelyn appeared, Cousland’s leash in her hand.

 

“Yes ma’am. Military base right at the edge of the city. The T.E.M.PL.A.Rs and Chargers, the city guard, S.W.A.T. National Guard, all have been called in. Now I ain’t got time to answer all your questions here. Cullen, that thing got bullets in it?”

 

Cullen cocked the pistol.

 

“Good.”

 

“Miss. Are you ready?”

 

“Just call me Evelyn.”

 

Samson drew his own service pistol, cocked it, checked the ammunition.

 

“Why do you need guns? Is it that dangerous outside?”

 

“Miss, the entire fuckin’ city is burning.”

 

**

 

The four of them piled into Samson’s jeep and the soldier gunned it, driving off before they could secure seatbelts.

 

“It’ll take an hour or more to get there by car.” Cullen said.

 

“We ain’t driving, we can’t. City’s fucked by all the monsters. Vallen’s arranged for a helicopter evac at the football field at Gallows High.”

 

“Gallows High? My –look out!”

 

A figured stumbled into to the road, tall and mortally thin. In the headlights she saw the creature had grey-green skin stretched over too long limbs that ended in curved claws that could rip a man in half. It turned to the oncoming light and screamed, Cousland howled piteously and Cullen and Evelyn threw their hands to their ears to guard against the screech.

 

“Ahh ahh! Sonofabitch!”

 

Samson stomped on the accelerator, bearing down on the creature before running into it, cracking his windshield into a latticework of glass that was barely visible out of.

 

“HOLY FUCK WHAT WAS THAT?!”

 

“Them was the monsters I was telling you about. Now imagine thousands of them tearing up people all through the city. That transport leaves in 20 with or without us. We gotta get on it if we’re gonna live through the night!”

 

“Cullen!”

 

From the front seat, Cullen reached back searching for her hand. She grabbed it, Cousland nosed under it, just as frightened.

 

“It’s okay, we’ll make it. You’ll be safe. I swear. Thank you Samson.”

 

“Thank me when we’re in that helicopter.”

 

They drove by burning buildings, by lootings, by bodies left in the streets. People screaming, crying, and dying, they drove by them all, Samson’s foot firmly on the pedal, never stopping for lights or pleas for help. More than once he had to swerve off the road to avoid a pile up of burning cars or a swarm of monsters so thick it’d destroy the vehicle if he drove through it.

 

Gallow’s High was close, 15 or so minutes away from Cullen’s apartment in the light traffic-- theirs was one of the only cars driving _into_ the city. The rest were piled and stuffed on highway entrance ramps, trapped as the monsters swarmed them at their leisure.

 

“Oh Maker! Those people, my kids, my students, my friends!”

 

Evelyn buried her face in Cousland’s neck as her left hand started to burn.

 

They made it to Gallows High, the helicopter sitting in the middle of the football field, ringed by a flood of humanity held back by menacing looking soldiers with guns. She kept her hand looped in Cousland’s collar, her other fisted tightly within Cullen’s own. They pushed through the crowd to the front just as the gatekeeper soldier began to shout.

 

“Military personnel and their families only! No civilians. A civilian transport will be here shortly.”

 

Cullen turned a questioning glance to Samson who shrugged, unsure of the statement’s truth.

 

She was shaking, shivering in the cold autumn night, jacket and warmer sweaters left behind when they fled. Cullen held her closer as he flashed his T.E.M.PL.A.R. badge to the the soldier guarding the path to the helicopter.

 

“Step through Ser.” The soldier waved him on.

 

Same with Samson.

 

“ID miss.” He barked at her. She fished for her ID and the soldier scanned it with a handheld computer.

 

It beeped.

 

And a red light flashed.

 

“I’m sorry miss, you aren’t on the list. This transport is for military and their families only.” He pushed her back gently with his hand, breaking her grip with Cullen’s, pushing her back into the screaming crowd.

 

Cullen felt the loss of her immediately and turned. “She’s with me.”  


 “I’m sorry sir, she can’t come.”

 

“Of course she can come, she’s with me.” He insisted grabbing her hand again.

 

“I’m sorry, rules are rules, we do not have the space. Family only. There…there will be another transport for civilians shortly.”

 

Evelyn pulled away. Pulling her hand from Cullen’s, tears welling and falling as she let him go.

 

“It’s okay Cullen, go. We’ll be fine. We’ll get on the other helicopter and meet up with you later.”

 

Cousland whined softly, nudging mistress’s hand.

 

WHEELS UP IN 3!

 

“CULLEN! GET ON! WE’RE LEAVING NOW!”

 

“No…NO!”

 

He knew the lie, heard it in the soldier’s stammer.

 

There was no other transport.

 

A lie concocted to prevent the masses from swarming and overrunning the helicopter.

 

This would be the last, and any left behind would die before sunrise.

 

He heard the howl of the monsters, felt the fires of Kirkwall singe his cheeks. If it this night ever ended Kirkwall would be a bloodstained ruined before he could find her again. If he let her go now, he would lose her, and he would lose his reason for breathing.

_I_ will not _live without her._

 

“No. You are coming with me, Evelyn. That’s final. Do you hear me? I will not be parted from you. Not ever.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her so softly and yet so fiercely, it took the bones out of her knees. Cullen turned back towards the soldier.

 

“Soldier this woman comes with me.” He snarled one final time.

 

Cousland barked, whining and whimpering. “The dog too!” Cullen added.

 

WHEELS UP IN 30 SECONDS!

 

“Sir I’m sorry but...”

 

Cullen drew his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at the man’s face.

 

“SHE IS MY WIFE AND THAT’S MY DOG DAMNIT! And _both_ of them are coming with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I participated in a BRUTAL dragon boat race today. I am dead. Dying. Done. Gone.
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> For all the kind words and comments:
> 
> Thanks!


	27. Shotguns, Shoestrings, and Paperclips

He held her the entire ride, Cousland too.

 

“Boy, lay down, hide your face behind my feet, don’t look down okay.”

  
Cousland whined and obeyed, distressed by the screaming, the smells, and his mistress’s fear.

 

Cullen wrapped an arm around Evelyn, tucking her face into his chest, guarding her, growling softly whenever that soldier shot an annoyed glance their way.

 

She shivered in his embrace, adrenaline and fear coursing through her system, crashing it. Cullen removed his jacket and draped it over her, rubbing her arms and back, bringing warmth to her skin with his concern more than his actions.

 

In the space of his arms, Cullen held his entire family, the only thing that mattered. Whatever they asked of him when they arrived at The Redoubt, he would do without question, anything to keep them safe.

 

Her humming interrupted his thoughts, bringing a soft smile to his face.

 

_“They say the Maker sent him special,_

_Always loyal, without pride,”_

“You really like that song hm?”

 

“Seems to bring me luck. It’s how I met you and it’s how I found you. This seems to be ‘our song’ don’t you think?”

 

He kissed her temple, nodding. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

 

**

 

The soldiers would not stop staring at the huge mabari that pawed through the base, wondering how in the Void one got on a transport meant for military and family only.

 

But when he shook loose of his mistress’s grasp to sit in front of a group of soldiers recently evacuated from the Haven neighborhood, begging for belly scratches and licking their blood covered hands and gore covered faces, no one questioned him anymore, in fact they were grateful for his presence.

 

“Holy Shit! Commander! Boss Lady!” Iron Bull wrapped the pair of them up in a huge hug, fitting the both of them easily in his arms.

 

The Temps and the Chargers had their own set of common and sleeping quarters where they gathered with their families. Dorian, Iron Bull, Delrin, Krem, Dalish, Skinner, Rocky, Stitches, Ms. De Fer.

 

“Darling!” Ms. DeFer rose from her seat to take Evelyn in her arms after giving her an appraising stare.

 

“Ms. De Fer! How are you here?!”

 

“Ser Barris over there is my half-brother.”

 

“Delrin!” Cullen shouted, “You never told me you had a sister.”

 

“I don’t.” The soldier muttered.

 

“Now now, what would mother say Delly, Maker don’t like ugly.” Ms. DeFer tittered.

 

Cullen shot his friend a sympathetic smile, understanding his reasoning.  
  


“But how did _you_ get here dear? Secret and unfortunate blood connections to a Temp?”

 

“I…I….”

 

“He shoved a gun in a man’s face, snarl on his lips like a fuckin’ mabari sayin’ ‘that’s my wife and my dog and both of ‘em are coming with me!’” Samson drawled, imitating infamous scene that was slowly spreading throughout the barracks like wildfire.

 

“You did what!?” Dorian shouted, rising from his seat.

 

Ms. DeFer had a similar reaction, fisting Cullen’s collar in her claws. “And what will you do, you utter _fool_ when they investigate your little claim and throw her out into the streets!”

 

“They couldn’t!” Cullen paled, glancing back to the woman who still clutched at his hand, the only thing keeping her afloat in the world right now. “I…I will not let them.”

 

“Think you can protect her when they got you locked up for insub?” Bull roared.

 

“They can’t!” Cullen screamed.

 

“Then…then let’s…” Evelyn spoke, squeezing Cullen’s hand tighter, beaming at him. “Let’s not give them a reason to kick me out.”

 

She spoke quietly, but the entire room of soldiers and civvies fell silent, looking from her to him back to her again and grinning.

 

Every last one of them.

 

Except Cullen, who was still trying to process the meaning of her words.

 

“Ev…are you saying, do you actually…you want to be?”

  
“You opened the door straw head, I’m just kicking it down.”

 

“Ha!” Samson barked. “Knew I liked her!”

 

Cullen picked her up and kissed her, grinning, forgetting the nightmare it took to get them here. Forgetting the fear, forgetting completely that the world would be ending outside within hours. Evelyn Trevelyan, Andraste’s Favorite Mabari, just agreed to be his wife and the world could—and rightly might—end and he’d be okay.

 

Everything was going to be okay.

 

“We’ll need a marriage certificate and…”

 

Krem dangled a white sheet of paper in front of Cullen’s face. “All you need is your two signatures, the signature of a witness and officiant, and notarized by a Notary Public.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Internet.”

 

“And I’m a Notary!” Dalish squealed waving her fancy stamp and seal.

 

“Okay so we’ll need…is there a chaplain we can bribe?”

 

“I don’t know of any.” Delrin shrugged.

 

“You know me, heretic qunari and all that.” Iron Bull offered uselessly.

 

Dorian and Vivienne started pulling Evelyn away, fussing over her, trying to create a wedding look out of the clothes they managed to snatch during their flight.

 

“Did you bring a dress?” Dorian asked.

 

“No, oh but I have a silk nightgown we could rip….”

 

Cullen watched her walk away, dazed, galloping heart drowning out the planning going on above his head. “She’s gonna be my wife.”

 

Samson punched him in the shoulder, “She ain’t, unless we find someone to marry your sorry, drooling ass.”

 

“You do it.” Delrin spoke.

 

“The fuck you mean me?”

 

“Templars used to be a religious order, isn’t that right Commander?” Delrin teased.

 

“Yes, they were the closest thing the Chantry had to male priests. In old times, during the Chantry Civil Wars,”

 

“A history lesson now Commander?” Samson howled.  


Cullen ignored him and continued.

 

“They acted as emergency priests with the full authority to give religious rites in the absence of any ordained women. We could….we could invoke that old rule again here…it is an emergency.”

 

“Whoa, whoa wait…even if that’s the rule and all that good shite, why I gotta be the one to do it? Why not you Del?”

 

“Because I’m gonna be the best man of course!”

 

**

Her hand hurt, the left one of course. She sighed, squeezing it, willing the pain to go away for just one hour. She wanted to enjoy this one hour of her life pain and worry free. Her body seemed to listen, and the pain quieted until it was forgotten.

 

They tore the thin straps of Vivienne’s—“You must call me that now darling, we’re practically family now. Marrying a Temp, makes you family.”

 

“I married a Charger, what does that make me?” Dorian asked.

 

“The help.” Vivienne teased, smiling, making and offending a new friend in a matter of seconds.

 

They tore the thin straps of Vivienne’s silk night nightgown, allowing the top to rest off the shoulder like a strapless dress.

 

“You’re getting married in pajamas.” Dorian laughed.

 

“I’m getting married.” Evelyn answered back.

 

“Is this something you want?” Vivienne asked seriously. “When this is over, I know a lawyer…”

 

“No, I want this. I want him.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Never been so sure of anything in my life. Nothing’s ever felt so right.”

 

** 

 

Bull and his Chargers cleared the tables in the Templar/Charger shared common room, making an aisle constructed out of computer chairs and decorated with white bedsheets strung to look like bunting.

 

He wore his dress uniform happily for the first time in his life, always hating dress blues for one impractical reason or another.

 

He wasn’t getting married in a sunlight strewn terrace, infested with every flower the Maker ever made in the presence of his siblings and his family. He was getting married on a military base on shoestring and paper clip budget with a dog as his witness and his best friend as the officiant, while the world outside burned.

 

And somehow, that second scene made more sense.

 

Felt more right.

 

“I just got off the horn with Chief Vallen, at 06:00 we move out.” Delrin said solemnly.

 

“Gives us about five hours.”

 

“Then I promise not to take too long with the ceremony then.” Samson grinned wolfishly.

 

Cullen blushed.

 

The Iron Bull came from the other room, placing a large hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “We set something up for you guys in the sleeping room. It won’t be a honeymoon but hey.”

 

“Thank you. All of you, you’ve been the best—“

 

He stopped.

 

They all stopped.

 

Evelyn appeared at the other end of the room, Cousland bouncing happily in front of her, Dorian and Vivienne escorting her on either side.

 

And she was the most beautiful creature the Maker ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am writing pseudo-Trespasser feelings when I thought it'd take me an entire 60 chapter fic before I'd address that. How odd.


	28. Signing Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some feelings writing this. I never have feelings while writing.

They made her flowers, constructed out of a ream of printer paper, they filled the makeshift bouquet with pens and two rulers, and taped it all together with a roll or two of scotch tape. Her veil was torn from one of Vivienne’s skirt slips, scratchy crinoline that they pinned in her hair and draped over her face. Someone found the appropriate Bardify wedding station and played a wedding march barely audible since the bank of desktop computers the Chargers and Temps shared were on the other side of the room.

 

Evelyn grinned at him, laughing as she walked to music that queued up as she was midway down the aisle, realizing that his stunned look probably arose from how utterly foolish she looked. She saw him make a coughing noise, an excuse to bring his hand up to his face and wipe it with the back of his sleeve. It came away wet.

 

He was crying.

 

She nearly turned and fled from the room, overwhelmed by her own heart, driven near senseless by so much love and emotion it made her want to run away. How could she love this man, this perfect human being, in any way he deserved when he was driven to tears by the sight of her in a nightgown dress with paper flowers—getting married at the end of the world?

  
She passed her bouquet to Dorian, raising her hands to his face to wipe away some of the wetness. The two of them ignored the rest of the room, pressing their heads together, grinning and laughing and sniffling and crying because this was too much, too right, and so familiar.

 

The stiff crinoline didn’t give when he tried to move the veil from her face. So he went searching with his fingers in her hair to find the pins that secured it down. He ripped them out one by one, so the veil tore away from her face, freeing some of her hair to tumble down to her shoulders, sounding very much like the patter of rain.

 

“Sorry,” she apologized, breaking protocol to kiss him a little early. “It was all we could come up with.”

 

“You are…beautiful isn’t the word. It’s not enough.”

  
“You don’t look so bad yourself _Commander_.” She rapped him on the chest. He feigned injury, clutching his hand to the area she struck. “Ow!” He laughed.

 

“This is cute n’ all.” Samson started, barely holding down his own smile. “But we’re short on time. So let’s skip the Dearly Beloved bullshit and get right to the part where you all make a promise.”

 

“Right,” Cullen coughed again, this time unashamedly letting his tears fall. He took her hands, he kissed them, then he recited the words. “I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman for the rest of my days.”

 

“Your turn miss.”

 

“I swear,” her voice cracked. Cullen let her hand go to stroke her face. “I too swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this man for the rest of my days.”

 

“It is so ordered!” Samson threw his well-worn copy of the Chant of Light to the ground and let out a hoot better served for a barn dance than a secret wedding. “Kiss your bride before I do!”

 

Cullen giggled, giddy, overwhelmed and taken over by love. He kissed his bride softly, the barest touch of lip to lip. But from the way his hands gripped her waist, body trembling, vibrating, she knew he held back, dying to kiss her in ways he didn’t want others to see.

 

“You can do better than that.”

 

Cullen tried to retort but she cut him off with a bruising, smashing kiss, one that made Vivienne gasp and Delrin whistle appreciatively.

 

All the passion Cullen promised, Evelyn delivered, claiming him with an open mouth and a probing tongue, not giving a single fuck that others watched and yet others more took notes.

 

“Now that’s a voiduva kiss don’t you think Miss?” Samson nudged Vivienne, winking at her. And after getting over her first instinct to gag, she had to admit, yes that was a nice looking kiss, one she would not mind having for herself. She cut her eyes at Samson, smirking.

 

“Indeed, shame it seems that everyone else here seems to lack the skill. Leave it to a woman to show them how it’s done.”

 

“Think you could show me?”

 

“Ser, it would take ages to properly instruct you.”

 

“Good thing I’m a practiced learner.” He shot back.

 

She did not respond to his little innuendo, answering only with a cryptic smile that made Samson’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

 

**

 

“Enjoy!” Delrin led them to the sleeping room connected to the common room. “But uhh…don’t enjoy _too_ much. We’re kinda right outside the door. And remember Commander, 06:00.” Delrin nodded at his friend and his new friend and closed the door behind him.

 

The sleeping room wasn’t too large, stuffed with twin beds that the army somehow thought a grown adult could sleep on comfortably. Cullen’s soldiers pushed three beds together, and decorated it with colored sheets made to look like a canopy, hanging them from the bed posts and the ceiling. The room was dark, lit only by the soft warm white glow of cheap Satinalia string lights, hung up all over the ceiling. Starlight without stars.

 

Evelyn gasped, ready to cry anew. “Oh, this is beautiful. They did this for us?”

 

“Yeah, gotta love them. A family when I didn’t think I’d have one. And I added a few new members today.” Cullen kissed her. “I just realized I’m kissing my wife. I rather like this.” He added breathlessly.

 

“Then kiss me again.”

 

“Would that I didn’t have to stop.”

 

“Is that what 06:00 means?”

 

“Yes. There will probably be a briefing on the specifics later, but I am a soldier, they will call me—all of us to fight.”

 

“No, no fighting. There’s no war right now. There’s just us in this beautiful room, and you’re supposed to be kissing me, Okay? That’s the plan, soldier.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

She undressed him, first undoing the belt that cinched around his waist, freeing the blue sash that was wrapped around him underneath.

  
“Sashes and epaulets and breeches. Little bit archaic don’t you think?” Evelyn muttered.

 

Cullen fumbled his words a bit. “Yes well, the T.E.M.PL.A.Rs are an old order. I...I can help.”

 

She batted away his hand. “Shh, let me do this.”

 

He let her, eyes never straying as she worked her way around him. Actually undoing the blue sash around his waist by taking the end in her hand and walking around his body in a circle, leaving kisses on his shoulders and his chest and his face as she went.

 

“Evelyn, Maker.”

 

Cullen’s knees started to buckle when her fingers came to undo the buttons on his coat, kissing the revealed chest underneath, flesh still barred from flesh by a thin white undershirt. He still felt the heat of her through the fabric, she radiated it, his private star, the center of his galaxy. He allowed himself the minor indulgence of running his fingers along the silk of her dress, touching her bare shoulders as she finished with his coat and moved on to his breeches.

 

“Kick your boots off please.”

 

He obeyed, pulling off his socks too. He hissed, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when her hand brushed against his arousal. She murmured an apology, pulling his zipper down, pulling his breeches down after, nails scratching lightly on muscled thighs. She pulled off his undershirt, running hands up his torso along the way, kissing the trails she left behind with her nails.

 

“You are killing me.” Her husband moaned.

 

She kissed his mouth to silence him, breaking the contact to pull the shirt over his head before resuming again. She still wore her dress, and he his underwear, as they tumbled down to the makeshift bed, a king size made out of three twins. He took as much time with her to remove her dress, starting from the hem at her ankles, kissing her calves and thighs and belly, her moans rising higher and higher as the dress came up and up.

 

Bare and aching, she laid before him, eyes shining in the dim light. “Please.” She reached for him, hands clasping around his neck to bring him down for a kiss. They sighed together as his weight settled atop her, hips and heat bumping together. They kissed, just like that, resting against one another in no hurry despite their short time and desperate need.

 

He rolled to lay beside her, arms locked at the small of her back. She threw a leg over his hip, sliding them together but never fully. They touched, rubbed, bumped, and ground against one another, rutting, building a sweet mountain of anticipation out of teasing sensations that were never quite fulfilling.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, taking his earlobe between her teeth.

 

He mumbled his response into her neck, suckling at her pulse, inhaling her through his nose and through his fingers, fingers that scratched and dragged up her sides, stopping to tease at sensitive nipples making her cry out sharply.

 

“Ah!”

**

 

Bull and Krem saluted Chief Vallen at the door to their common room standing with a soldier Samson remembered from Gallows High.

 

“At ease, I’m looking for an Evelyn Trevelyan. I am told she’s here in the company of your Commander.”

 

Bull, Krem, and Samson looked at each other puzzled.

 

“Evelyn _Trevelyan_ you say ma’am?” Bull wondered aloud. “Don’t have anybody by that name here. There’s an Evelyn _Rutherford_ here though…”

 

“Ah!”

 

Vallen heard the cry and poked her head to the side trying to see where the sound came from, a woman’s cry.

 

“Ahh! That’s just Dalish, roughhousing with the soldiers, you know, gotta work out that nervous energy.” Krem supplied, looking between his two comrades begging them with his eyes for help.

 

Vallen quirked an eyebrow and continued. “This soldier here says Commander Rutherford threatened him into letting unauthorized personnel onto an evac transport.”

 

Samson grinned. “Well shit, the man was making him leave his wife behind, I’d get threatening too.”

 

Vallen turned on the soldier, “You said she wasn’t family!”

 

“She…she wasn’t, I scanned the ID she…”

 

Dorian passed the Internet printed marriage certificate to Bull, signed by Samson and the rest of them, who then passed it to the Chief. She examined the document, face clouding a moment. She poked her head back into the room, taking stock of the bed sheet decorations and the wedding march that still played on a repeating loop from the computer speakers.

 

The Iron Bull looked ready to explain before the Chief smiled tightly and handed the marriage certificate back to him.

 

“Everything seems to be in order here, carry on soldiers.”

 

All three men, Vivienne, and Dorian too saluted the woman with a hearty yes ma’am.

 

“Oh, and tell the Commander I said congratulations…but wait a while.”

 

**

 

He moved slowly, sinking deeply, his forehead pressed so tight to hers he could hear her thoughts.

 

_More, yes, deeper, please!_

She kept their eyes locked, mouth open in a thunderous groan as he took her with a sweet savagery. Her ankles locked around his back, pushing him deeper with every thrust he took.

 

“There, yes! Please! Cullen! Please!”

 

He moaned into her mouth, calling her name as he kissed her.

 

“Please,” she begged him. “Please stay with me, oh!”

 

He never let his eyes leave her face, making promises with his gaze his heart knew he couldn’t keep.

 

“Yes, always, forever, Maker! Evelyn!”

 

The lie was bitter, sweetened by her cries of ecstasy. He made her come, holding still as she rocked and shuddered under him, undone completely, screaming his name with tears in her eyes, heart breaking because she knew he lied to her.

 

He held himself off as long as he could, knowing when this was over he’d fall asleep in her arms and loose the last precious minutes he’d have with her, his wife.

 

Then he would go to war.

 

And likely not come back.

 

He fucked her relentlessly, leaving every bit of himself with her, leaving his skin under her nails and his teeth marks in her neck.

 

But he couldn’t hold himself any longer, her pleas and cries of his name too sweet and beautiful.

 

“Evelyn, Maker! Oh Maker!”

 

He spent himself deep and hot within her, hoping against his better judgement that of all the things he could leave with her, he could at least leave her with his child.

 

She held him as he came down, twisting their bodies so that they lay side by side, gazing up at the ceiling.

 

And in the darkness of the room, the string lights looked like stars, as though seen through a hole in the roof.

 

**

 

A knock at the door work him, his wife curled in his empty spaces.

 

“Commander, its 05…” Delrin called apologetically.

 

He grunted acknowledgement, then went to press his face to his wife’s, breathing her, smelling the scent of her hair oil—oranges, flowers, and spices—a scent he knew from somewhere, somehow, as familiar to him as his name and his heartbeat.

 

“Wake up Mrs. Rutherford.”

 

“No. Mr. Trevelyan.”

 

Cullen laughed. “Is that how this is gonna be?”

 

“You can’t leave without saying goodbye. You can’t say goodbye if I’m still asleep.”

 

“I can, I’ll just be late, waking you up in my own way.”

 

He nuzzled her, bumping his hips against her, drawing a delighted little squeal from her.

 

He dressed, then he geared up, pulling on his combat boots, fatigues, and body armor.

 

Outside their little love nest, Delrin, Bull, and the rest were similarly dressed, waiting on their Commander.

 

“Chief Vallen wants a meeting, then it’s wheels up. T.E.M.PL.A.Rs move out!” Delrin ordered.

 

Vivienne hugged her brother goodbye who returned her frosty affection with a half-smile and a half-hug.

 

Dorian had his hands fisted in Bull’s tac vest, holding the qunari in a death grip. “You come back!”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Don’t play games with me! You. Come. Back!”

 

“Yup,” Bull teased again drawing a frustrated smile from his husband.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” Dorian huffed, kissing Bull fiercely, something that tasted like fire and lightning, something that tasted like lingering death.

 

“Figure it out when I get home kadan. I’m amatus imortalis, I’m forever, I always come back, even when I don’t. And I love you.”

 

“I love you too, you idiot.”

 

Bull led his Chargers out.

 

“No kiss goodbye for me darlin’, I figure I’m still owed a lesson.” Samson waggled his eyebrows at Vivienne, grateful her brother wasn’t here to watch his shameless display.

 

To his astonishment, Vivienne did kiss him, though only on the cheek. “Consider it a tutorial.”

 

“More to come later ‘eh?”

 

“You have to survive first.”

 

“Yes ma’am!”

 

Raleigh practically skipped away.

 

“Though all before me is shadow,” Cullen kissed Evelyn’s hands, then bent to give Cousland a scratch behind the ears. “Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the beyond.” He kissed her mouth. “For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light, and nothing He has wrought.” He kissed her mouth again, harder. “Shall be lost.”

 

“A prayer for you?”

 

“For the souls that have been lost out there, and for souls I am afraid to lose.”

 

Fear cut through his voice, stealing hers from her.

 

“We must draw strength wherever we can.” He continued. “The time has come for me to step into the path of war again. And Andraste preserve me, I must leave you.”

 

“You’ll come back. Whatever happens, you will come back. Okay? Please, the thought of losing you…I can’t.”

 

She held him, they shivered together, time ran out, drawing him away from her arms, from her tear stained face and Cousland’s soft, whining cry.

 

The Commander fished in his pocket and drew from it a radio, he turned it on and tuned it to a station and handed it to her.

 

“Here, keep tuned to this frequency, that way you can hear us, so you’ll know I’m safe.”

 

“And if you’re not? Maker! What if you’re not?”

 

“My life began when I heard your voice for the first time, I’d like to hear it again, if I…if I don’t come back." Her distress broke him apart and he rethought his foolishness. "I'm sorry that's selfish, I can’t ask you to…I’m sorry.” He took the radio away but she stopped his hand, snatching it from him.

 

“No, I’ll keep it. What’s your call sign so I know it’s you?”

 

“Lionheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Divadevi8808, that was for you. You know what I'm talking about ;)


	29. Before Action Reveiw

“Alright, listen up.”

 

Chief Vallen was austere in all ways, tight and severe, from the short buzz cut of her hair to the intensity of her eyes, to the sharp line of her lips that opened only when necessary.

 

Cullen couldn’t remember if he ever saw her smile fully, the last of her warmth dying with her husband Wesley a few years ago, the T.E.M.PL.A.R the Commander inherited his post from.

 

The Chief clicked a button and a monstrous figure took up the screen, a creature composed of more rock than living flesh. Tall and thin, too little skin stretched over too many bones, grafted to red crystals that jutted out of his face and chest.

 

Every soldier in the room gasped, some swore, others shouted.

 

Except for Iron Bull, Samson, Cullen, Krem and the rest of the Chargers. They sat silently, un-bothered by the creature, inoculated somehow against his monstrous appearance.

 

“This thing has taken residence in the ruin of the Grand Cathedral.”

 

She clicked another slide showing satellite imagery of the ruined structure, most of it blotted out by a rough circle of dead space.

 

“Chief, you got problems with your picture?” Samson asked.

 

“No soldier, that’s the hole in the sky, right above him, right above the Cathedral. I’ve brought in a scientist from Kirkwall University, Dr. Dagna Smith. She can tell you more about the hole."

 

A dwarven woman appeared smiling too brightly for the heavy and fearful energy running in the room. She thanked Chief Vallen and started to speak, almost too rapidly for any to get a hang on what she was saying.

 

“This hole, a Breech if you will, is expanding by the hour. Eyewitnesses in Markham and Ostwick state that once the Breech reaches a critical point it expands to swallow its target and the surrounding areas, destroying it.”

 

“Oh Fuck,” Samson muttered.

 

Cullen cursed and drew a line from his forehead to his stomach, drawing Andraste’s pyre over his body and praying for Her protection.

 

“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Someone asked.

 

“Nothing that I can see, no. But I can tell that this creature,” the satellite imaged changed back to the rock creature, “Is controlling it, he’s actually stopped its growth.”

 

“He has?” Chief Vallen asked. “Why?”

 

“From a flyby we took audio recordings. He’s calling for someone, someone named Inquisitor.”

 

A spike drove itself into Cullen’s brain, a sharp blinding pain that lasted for a second.

 

_You wanted into the Fade! Go then!_

Before it dissipated completely. Samson nudged his friend.

 

“Commander I gotta tell you and please, don’t send me to a shrink, but I get the feelin’ I know that guy.”

 

“Button up!” Cullen hissed, afraid of Samson confirming what he too felt.

 

Samson obeyed, niggling feeling making him sick. Whenever he knew this man, he knew he stood _with_ him rather than against.

 

“Do we know who this Inquisitor is?” Cullen asked.

 

“No Commander we don’t.”

 

“Wait…” Delrin. ”Could it be… _the_ Inquisitor the one from that exhibit at the History Museum?”

 

_If you know so damned much why can’t you destroy him? Why me? What can I do that you can’t?_

Dreams became memory, those memories faded into dreams. The Museum didn’t happen the way he thought anymore. Cullen shook his head, cold dread replacing every cell in his body. “No. Not this time.” He whispered.

 

Chief Vallen shook her head too, dismissing the notion. “Even if it was, that doesn’t mean anything for us, that woman’s been dead for 1100 years. What I can tell you is this. We have a plan, this asshole whoever he is, has bought us some time, and I intend to use it. Sister Nightingale if you please.”

 

A woman in the front row stood, beautiful in the deadly glint in her eye, a large M24 SWS sniper rifle slung on her back.

 

“This is our Specialist codename Sister Nightingale, it’s gonna be your job to get her through the horde of monsters that choke downtown Kirkwall, and close enough to take him out.”

 

**

 

Evelyn sat in the common room, too afraid to turn up the volume on the radio he left for her, afraid of what she might hear.

 

The three of them sat together, quiet, Cousland waddling to each one of them in turn, offering up little licks of affection in exchange for ear scratches or whatever was left on their plates of food left largely uneaten.

 

Incensed by the silence, Dorian switched on the TV to find most of the stations, the local ones, nothing but dry static. Switching over to cable he found a broadcast out of Denerim.

 

_Now on to the latest news from Kirkwall. Satellite images of the city show it is overrun with monsters that seem to be following the orders of this creature._

The anchorman disappeared and a monster with a red crystal face filled the screen. He seemed to hover off the ground, twisted face scowling, mouth open in a scream.

 

_We have no official reports but sources say the casualties are in the thousands and growing by the hour. Our thoughts and prayers are with the citizens of Kirkwall and the soldiers fighting—_

The news played seemingly on a loop, showing the same pictures of the monster's face, and offering no more new information other than the death toll and the panic in the surrounding areas.

 

_Experts also speculate that this creature may be responsible for the Chantry explosion that happened some weeks before…_

 

“I feel like he should have a name,” Dorian quipped, choosing to run his mouth to outrun the thoughts in his head. “We had Osama Bin Arishok and the Uldredbomber…this terrorist should have a name too. John Wayne Crystal Gracy?”

 

“Ugh, how morbid.” Vivienne scoffed.

 

Evelyn sat in silence, flexing her left hand. After her wedding, the contract between mind and body ended and the pain came back with a bloody, burning, stinging vengeance.

 

“What about shit face? Someone told me something before about …Coryshit…no…that’s not right.”

  
Vivienne sighed heavily, feeling a millstone pressing against her chest, forcing all her air out in a thick moan. “Corypheus…his name is Corypheus.”

  
Dorian stared at the woman, a woman he met only hours ago but teased and taunted and joked with as though she were an old adversary. “I’m worried because…well not because you took the words right out of my head. But I’m worried because I know you’re right. I remember that name. That name fits.”

 

A sound exploded in the room, an electric spark or a bomb going off. Dorian and Vivienne turned to see their mutual friend consumed in green light emanating from her left hand.

 

Her dog barked and whined, trying to get close to mistress but unable to approach for the sparking green lightning that shot out from her arm.

 

“Good Maker! What is happening?”

 

Evelyn gripped her forearm, trying to rein in her scream, remembering the sad face of the elf who did this to her. She fell to her knees, and her arm…stopped. The lightning disappeared but her arm smoked, the smell of burnt hair and flesh filling the room.

 

“Evelyn!”

 

Vivienne caught her before she could tumble head first into the floor.

 

“Oh Maker, we have to get her to the infirmary!”

 

Evelyn moaned, twisting out of Vivienne’s arms. “No! No. They’ll cut it off!”

 

“Are you really worried about vanity at this point, Maker, your arm was on _fire_.”

 

“It’s not _fire_ it’s some kind of _magic_.”

 

“Sweetheart,” Dorian cooed, talking to her as if she were simple. “The last mages died out several ages ago, there’s no magic left in the world.”

 

“There is…he said…it wasn’t dead.”

 

“Who said? What are you talking about, what in the utter Void is going on?” Vivienne screeched.

 

“Solas! Solas did this to me. He said…oh Maker…we have to go!”

 

Evelyn rose to her feet, stumbled then rose again, walking toward the door.

 

“Evelyn Tre—Rutherford! Where are you going and why do I have a feeling it’s not to a doctor?”

 

“Dorian! What if I told you where The Iron Bull is going, whatever plan they have to stop that Corypheus wasn’t going to work? What if I told you that he’ll die hoping on something that has no chance?”

 

“I’d slap the sense into you, then slap you again for having the nerve to say that in my hearing.”

 

“Yeah well it’s the truth. Whatever they got, it’s not going to work because _I_ am the only thing that can stop it. _This,”_ she waved her smoking and burnt arm. “Is the only thing that can stop it.”

 

Vivienne’s face greyed, turning ashen in her horror.

 

“I have long had dreams of a woman who was my greatest friend. Like a daughter to me when I had no children. Evelyn, that is my brother out there, no matter how he feels about me, he is my family...are you telling me he'll die?"

 

Evelyn nodded. “Do you remember anything else? Anything that might give us a clue? Dorian?”

 

“No. I just have feelings. Feelings of power and love and friendship and that’s it. That’s all I know.”

 

“Solas said, he told me to trust my friends. That they’d help me with the right tools. I don’t remember anything, I don’t _know_ anything, I just have feelings like you said. And the feeling that I have is that my _husband_ is going to die out there counting on something that’s not gonna work.”

 

The light in her hand glowed, getting brighter as tears fell from pain and emotion.

 

“My friends, even if we don’t remember, even if none of it makes sense. If you knew, even if you couldn’t explain how other than a _feeling._ If you knew there was a way to save the people we _love_. Would you?”

 

“Yes,” They both said in unison and without doubt.

 

“Then follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting to write another chapter today but hey, here we are.


	30. The Right Tools

The activity of the Breech worked like an electrical storm, disabling any equipment that drew too close. They couldn’t fly into Downtown Kirkwall, they had to drive.

 

“Boss,” Iron Bull kept his head low, intently studying the space between his boots.

 

“Yeah Bull.” Cullen answered him, just as sullen.

 

“No offense to miss Nightingale up there, and as much as I hope a bullet to the braincase will end all this, I got the sinking suspicion it won’t.”

 

Cullen avoided The Iron Bull’s one-eyed stare down, he didn’t have the heart or the courage to confirm his fears, because it meant this mission was little more than suicide.

 

“Commander….Cullen. I got people to get back to. I got people right here in this damn Dennet that want to go home alive. We’re soldiers, we’re _Chargers_ we’ll fight and die horns fucking up, but I gotta know man, am I gonna see my husband again?”

 

Crushed under the weight of guilt and grief, Cullen began his answer when the Dennet skid to an abrupt stop, the howl of monsters close and pressing closer.

 

“We walk from here,” Sister Nightingale said, voice thick with an Orlesian accent.

 

**

 

Evelyn surprised herself with how easy it was to knock out the soldier guarding the bay of Den-vees. She tapped him on the back of the neck (head ruled out as it was guarded by a thick helmet) with her anchored hand, delivering the tiniest pulse of power, unknowing she had that level of control over it. He fell soundlessly and she had to check to make sure he was still breathing.

 

“Seems like he’s alright. Now let’s find a car.”

 

As surprised as they were of Evelyn's seeming mastery of her cursed hand, they were even more surprised at Vivienne's adept carjacking skills. The Dennet roared to life and peeled out of the vehicle bay, crashing through the gate, sending the guards diving for cover on either side of the road.

 

“Woman! Did you learn to drive from the same people who taught you how to boost a car?!” Dorian screeched from the backseat. Cousland barked happily beside him, head stuck out of the window, tongue trailing behind him in the wind.

 

“Yes actually, I knew Red Templars in my youth. It's why my brother isn't so keen on me. Where are we headed darling?”

 

“The Kirkwall Museum of History. Floor it.”

 

**

 

They didn't need to break into the museum, it was already shattered, laying open for them. A corpse of wealth and history with flesh still sticking to its ribs for feasting. Looters picked at it, then died laden with their treasures, torn apart by the monsters that roamed the streets and apparently moved on.

 

“What are we looking for?” Dorian asked.

 

“Shh. Just follow me.” Evelyn instructed

 

“Why are we being quiet?”

 

“Because cops might mistake us for looters and shoot us on sight.”

 

“I'm just going to point out that we're actually here with the intention of looting.”

 

“My dears, a cop is likely to shoot us on sight whether we intend to loot or not.”

 

“Point taken,” Dorian and Evelyn muttered.

 

Dorian, Evelyn, and Vivienne wound their way through the silent museum, lit by the first rays of morning sunlight. She led them to the Skyhold exhibit, cordoned off with intents to pack it up and away for the next city, the sudden apocalypse halting plans for relocation.

 

“Oh my goodness look!” Vivienne squealed, pressing her face to the display that held the ornate silver headpiece. “Oh wouldn't this look darling on me?”

 

Dorian and Evelyn ignored her, stopping at the display of weapons. Staves, axes, swords, shields, and bows lay undisturbed in their glass displays, waiting for the right hands to lay upon them for one more fight.

 

“It seems we've come to the end of our journey, I ask again, why are we here?”

 

“Solas said that magic still rested in minds that could remember them if they had the right tools. Here are the tools.”

 

“You think we are mages?”

 

“I just feel it. Will you trust me?”

 

“I won't die with the regret that I could have saved the Iron Bull but didn’t try. I'll try anything once, twice if feels good but how are we going to get inside?”

 

She pressed her green hand to the glass case, sending another pulse down her arm and into the case. The glass shattered loudly, an ear splitting crack breaking up the silence.

 

Dorian and Vivienne picked through the weapons, drawn to them suddenly, hands searching for the right ‘tool’.

 

“I don’t like any of these.”

 

Dorian nodded, agreeing. “I don’t either.”

 

He felt a pull, a fish hook tugging at his brain. Dorian turned from the case of mundane weapons and into the room of the Inner Circle. Passing by most of the display cases he found himself standing before the The Magister, tears falling unexpectedly and unbidden.

 

 _“_ ’He took a lover, the Mercenary, yet when the Inquisition ended, the Magister returned home to his wife and family, choosing to forget past dalliances’" Dorian murmured brokenly, reading from the information plaque.  "Evelyn. This hurts me in ways I cannot utter. What is this? Where have you brought me?”

 

“See, do you see now? Do you feel it? Like something in the corner of your eye. If you turn to look at it, it disappears but you _know_ it’s there. And this.” She threw her arms up encompassing the whole exhibit. “We _know_ this is wrong.”

 

Dorian nodded. “Yes. This is wrong. Open this case, Sorora, so we can get the fuck out of here before I retch.”

 

Evelyn didn’t pause at his use of a word she never heard him say before. Instead she complied, pressing her hand against the glass that protected The Magister’s staff. The case shattered and Dorian reached for it, feeling warmth when he had it in his hands.

 

As he stared at the weapon Evelyn found Vivienne staring The Enchantress, her robes and her mask of silver.

 

“Give me this.”

 

“Solas said…”

 

“Solas said the ‘right tools’. It needn’t be something so literal as a staff. She wielded this cloth, this mask as capably as one would wield a staff or a bow. Give me these. These will be _my_ tools.”

 

She cracked the glass again and watched as Vivienne pulled off her jacket and pulled on the robe with the flared collar, the mask, and the headpiece, looking ready for an elaborate masquerade ball.

 

“Oh!” She sighed delightedly. “It fits like a dream and…”

 

Vivienne, snapped her fingers, turning the mannequin from which she pulled the garments into a block of ice.

 

“Show off.” Dorian growled, the white orb that tipped his staff glowing with fire that shimmered into purple, smoking, malevolent energy, a whisper of lingering death. “Feels almost like riding a bicycle, except without ever having ridden one in the first place. My body knows what to do and my mind, unconscious knows too. The same way you know how to breathe without thinking about it.”

Dorian carried a huge war axe lashed to his back, lashed behind him like a backpack.

 

“Why do you have that?”

 

“I feel like we’ll need it.” Dorian turned to Vivienne, appraising her new look. “My dear, you look divine.”

Vivienne nodded, grinning. “I am.”

 

**

 

Evelyn stood before the case that held the weapons of The Inquisitor, a red bow with a silver metal grip. She touched her hand to the glass and heard barking, the sound of a hunting dog giving chase.

 

Except…

 

“Monsters! They’re coming! Evelyn Come on! We gotta go!”

 

With no further time to reflect, she shattered the glass grabbing the bow and a quiver of arrows. The mark in her hand stung, pulling and tearing at her, directing towards another case and not towards her friends and the furious barks of her dog.

 

The mark quieted as she stood before The Commander and the awful lie of his death. She couldn’t look at it, inconsolable grief tearing up her heart.

 

“Evelyn! There's no time!” Someone cried.

 

She broke the glass, reaching for sword and shield.

 

**

 

Rather than stand and fight, they ran, not willing to bet their lives just yet on newfound or old remembered skill. They tripped over broken displays and overturned furniture, tearing through the museum to reach the parked Den-vee still humming and purring, ignition still running, ready to peel out.

 

They piled into the vehicle, Vivienne somewhat cramped in the driver’s seat with her new fashion. Evelyn and Dorian tore off the extra weapons they carried, throwing them into the back apologizing when a bit of steel knocked Cousland in the head.

 

“Sorry boy, now get down!”

 

The mabari yelped and obeyed, ducking as Evelyn fired her bow, striking one of the pursuing monsters in the heart, if such things had a heart in such places.

 

Vivienne gunned the vehicle, driving away, screaming.

 

“Now where do we go?”

 

Evelyn clicked on her radio, turning the sound as high as it could go.

 

_Charger 1 to Chief, Charger 1 to Chief. Tangos overrunning the barricade. Say Again Tangos overwhelming the—_


	31. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

**Status Lionheart** : In Combat

 **Status Chief:** Moving to position

 **Status Charger 1** : In Combat

 **Status Red Wolf:** In Combat

 **Status Thunder Mountain** : In Combat

_Chief, Specialist covered?_

_Affirmative, Lionheart._

_Clear shot?_

_Negative._

_Casualties._

_Negative._

_Charger 1 sit rep._

_…_

_Charger 1!_

_Multiple tangos, heavy resistance, weapons ineffective, requesting immediate assistance!_

_Negative Charger 1 we are engaged. Thunder Mountain, can you assist?_

_Negative Lionheart, also pinned down._

_Red Wolf lend assistance?_

_Negative Lionheart, Tangos thicker than flies on shit._

_Charger 1 to Lionheart, Charger 1 to Chief, Charger 1 to all ears! Report sighting of new enemy unit! Situation Charlie Foxtrot. Requesting immediate --_

_Charger 1!! Lionheart, Chief requesting permission to aid…_

_Negative Chief, primary concern protect the specialist._

_Say! Again! Requesting! Permission!_

_Negative Chief!  Lionheart moving to assist Charger 1._

_…_

_Thank you Lionheart._

* * *

 

“Just punch it Viv, Maker damn you!”

“I can’t, the car is torn to shreds already from that last trip off-roading. The road is choked with burning cars and monsters, and the gas tank is empty! We can’t get through and even if we could, the damn thing would fail a mile in!”

“We’ll be torn to pieces if we try to walk from here to middle of Downtown. Five miles through a nest of monsters we’ll die! The Iron Bull is…Evelyn turn up the radio!”

_Charger 1 to Lionheart, Charger 1 to Chief, Charger 1 to all ears! Report sighting of new enemy unit! Situation Charlie Foxtrot. Requesting immediate--_

“Vivienne please!”

“I can’t make this thing go any more than I can make us sprout wings fly. Evelyn! What are we to… Where are you going now? Downtown isn’t that way!”

“One more stop, not far from here, and I promise, we’ll fly.”

* * *

 

**Status Lionheart:** In Combat

 **Status Chief:** Holding in Position

 **Status Charger 1** : In Combat

 **Status Red Wolf** : In Combat

 **Status Thunder Mountain** : In Combat

_Lionheart to Chief, engaged with Charger 1, heavy casualties. Multiple tangos. Overwhelming defenses, ammunition low. Is the specialist ready?_

_Affirmative Lionheart. Sister Nightingale ready to take the shot._

_Lionheart to Sister Nightingale Fire at will!_

_Kill that sum’bitch sister!_

_Maker guide your shot!_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Lionheart to Chief! Confirm enemy kill?_

_…_  
…  
…

_Lionheart to Chief! Confi--… -- emy kill?_

_Negative Lionheart, target remains._

_Thunder Mountain to Chief; Missed?_

_Four shots, clean kills all… target remains_

_Oh fuck!_

_Blessed Maker…_

_Chief to Lionheart…what do we do?_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_\--It! Char—down! Say Again. –er1 Down!  
…_

_…_

_Chief to Lionheart?_

_Thunder Mountain to Lionheart, Lionheart come in._

_Red Wolf to Lionheart…damn you answer!_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Evelyn, if you can hear me, I—_

* * *

 

**Status Lionheart** : In Combat

 **Status Chief:** Awaiting Orders

 **Status Charger 1:** In Combat

 **Status Red Wolf** : In Combat

 **Status Thunder Mountain:** In Combat

 **Status Inquisitor:** In Combat

Cullen didn’t hear the thunder of hooves bear down on the monster that reached to disembowel him. All he knew was that he faced his death, reaching for his radio to scream Evelyn’s name when a pair of white hooves crushed the monster, gore splattering up the horse’s legs and body.

A horse.

In the middle of a swarm of demons.

Evelyn on its back, firing arrows into everything that didn’t look normal.

And if that was the only odd, terrifying, bewildering image of the day, Cullen would be mostly alright.

But it wasn’t.

Because there were _two_ horses. And a mabari.

And from the back of the second horse, Vivienne—dressed in what could only be described as All Soul’s Day couture—shot fire and lighting from the snap of her fingers while Dorian did much the same with a very large staff. Cousland snapped and growled, ripping off arms and legs and heads with a crush of his huge jaws.

And all the monsters died.

What took them 15 bullets, they did with one arrow or one blast.

The swarm of monsters that surrounded Lionheart and Charger 1 fell destroyed, by his wife, her two best friends, and her dog with _magic_ and _bow and arrow._

“Commander?” Krem asked, lowering his weapon almost spent of its ammo, mouth opened wide in shock. Confirming for the Commander that what just happened wasn’t a dream. “Are we dead?”

He didn’t know what to feel, elation, fear, bewilderment. A combination of all three? Yet, judging objectively as a good Commander should, his mind settled on the one immutable fact he could wrap his head around: Evelyn was here, in the middle of a fucking warzone.

“No, but I know someone who is about to be!”

Finding his feet, the Commander charged toward the horse that bore his wife and pulled her bodily out of the saddle with one fierce tug.

“Cul--!” She screamed, cut off by the fierce crush of his lips to hers before he pulled away, face full of thunderous fury.

“Evelyn Cecilia Renee Marie Trevelyan— _Rutherford_ **WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun and turned out way better than expected. But it's criminally short and for that, you have my apologies. Also, I hoped to make this as clear as I possibly could, but in case anyone is still tied up: Call-sign Thunder Mountain is Delrin Barris, referring specifically to his wiki entry that describes a book written about him called "Thunder Upon the Mountains! The Battle for the Heart of Dragon's Peak!"  
> Hopefully everything else came out self-explanatory.


	32. Doom Upon All the World

Evelyn needed a few extra seconds to settle her mind after a kiss like that and to summon the base in her voice to holler back.

“Saving you! You’re welcome!”

“She did kinda save us Commander.” Krem responded, desiring to point out the obvious, definitely not desiring to get in the middle of what looked to be the first fight of the Rutherford’s marriage career.

“It is too. Dangerous! For you to be here. Maker’s balls, you get on that horse and…How are you even here on a horse? Is that Jackson?”

“Yes, and White Luck too. We came because whatever plan you have to stop Corypheus isn’t going to work.”

Cullen paused, frozen in fear and recognition. “Corypheus? I know that name.”  
“We all do.”

Vivienne and Dorian dismounted from White Luck. “Where is The Iron Bull? Is he alright?”

“He won’t be for much longer if we stand here arguing about the whys and the hows. Suffice it to say,” Evelyn pointed at Dorian and Vivienne. “They know magic.”

Evelyn pointed down to her left hand. “I don’t know magic but I have it too.”

She pointed up, to the churning green hole in the sky that pulsed with light in time with the pulse of light centered on her left hand.

“That thing will kill us all and there is no weapon you have to stop it.”

“Then how!” Cullen shouted. “How will we…?”

Evelyn balled that left hand into a fist. “ _I_ am the weapon. _I_ will stop it. I don’t know how, I don’t care why, I don’t give a shit about memories or dreams or anything like that. All I know is that I need to stop that thing before we. All. Die! So here.”

She threw the sword and shield of The Commander to her husband. “Take these, get on the horse, call your friends, and have them meet us wherever Corypheus is.”

“Evelyn!”

“Just do it Commander!”

**

 **Status Lionheart** : Moving to position

 **Status Chief** : Holding Position

 **Status Charger 1** : Moving to position

 **Status Red Wolf** : Moving to position

 **Status Thunder Mountain** : Moving to position

 **Status Inquisitor:** Moving to position

Vivienne insisted on using her new abilities to keep up with the horses, appearing as a blue blur next to Jackson and White Luck as they galloped and Cousland as he ran up Champion’s Way, the vein leading to the heart of Downtown Kirkwall. Inquisitor rescued Lionheart and Charger 1 near the intersection of Champion and University, pinned down by Kirkwall U.

“Chief Vallen pinned her hopes on this operation. She stationed all of us, everyone one she had around the city to fight these things. She told them to hold as long as they could while we got the specialist into position.”

“Only the specialist didn’t work.”

“No. And to be honest, if you hadn’t shown up when you did… How did you find me Evelyn?” He whispered into her hair, hands clasped around her waist as she guided Jackson over and through and around the ruined cars and smoking debris that choked Champion’s Way.

“I don’t know. Something keeps pulling me to you, or you to me. Can’t explain it. I don’t want to. All I know is that I love you death and I’m the only one who can save the world and thus by extension, you. So here I am.”

He held her tighter. “Evelyn I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I think it’s more like _I_ won’t let anything happen to _you_.”

“You’re my savior now?”

“You’ve been mine.”

_Red Wolf to Lionheart! Red Wolf to Lionheart! Whatever you got cookin’ you better serve soon, there is a wave of creatures heading for the Cathedral on our six and they ain’t happy._

_Thunder Mountain to Lionheart. Confirm Red Wolf’s intel. Position abandoned and overrun. Tangos heading for the Hotel Zulu_

Vivienne shrieked. “That’s my brother! What does that mean? Is he alright?”

“Whatever you’re doing Viv keep doing it. We’ll be there soon.”

_Chief to Lionheart. Position compromised, engaged with the enemy. Say again. Engaged with the enemy!_

“Bull! Evelyn! Can this blighted creature run any faster?!”

“We’re going as fast as we can!”

“It needs to be faster then!” Krem called from behind Dorian. “Because those are monsters on our ass!”

Behind them, the tide of creatures swelled into a mighty wave of screaming and howling, rending claws and befouled flesh. They seemed to pop in and out of reality, sucked in through the ground and reappearing again feet and yards ahead, gaining on them.

“Cullen! Hold on!”

She kicked Jackson harder, spurring her mount into a terrified gallop, the burning buildings of Kirkwall passing by in a red orange smear.

At once everyone began screaming. Dorian flung spells behind him and Krem fired his weapon just as blindly and just as inefficiently. Vivienne couldn’t focus, couldn’t split her energy into maintaining her magical run and firing off an offense, so she kept speeding, racing toward her brother.

“Jackson go! Go!”

East 22nd became East 14th became East 9th.

The horde swelled. With no soldiers to occupy them, they ran for their master, Corypheus, chasing the prey down into the trap where the Elder One waited, anxious and eager to exact his revenge.

_Red Wolf to Lionheart. Arrived at Hotel Zulu. Major casualties._

_Thunder Mountain to Lionheart. Where are you?_

_Chief …to…Lion...heart…tell ‘em…tell_

The buildings thickened. Kirkwall’s amalgamation of high rises, office buildings, and storefronts fanned out from a concentrated core with the Cathedral at its epicenter. As they drew nearer to the eye of  the storm, the skyscrapers blocked the daylight of the rising sun, shading horse and rider and runner and dog from its rays, casting the center in a darkened pall.

A shadow.

A shadow that grew darker and wider as the Breech expanded.

By East 4th it was darker than night.

At the Cathedral it was black.

The creatures, monsters, demons pulsed around the ruined building. Flies feasting on a corpse of rubble. Gunfire popped in bright yellow flashes almost constantly around the building before a scream would sound and the gun fall silent. One less yellow flash.

“IRON BULL!”

They were trapped between two walls of demons, cut off from aiding their friends and family. The horses, with nowhere to run, neighed and reared, Evelyn fighting desperately to keep Jackson under grips. Krem was torn out of the saddle. A lick of electric energy whipped at Jackson, knocking both riders from his back. Cullen pressed in front of his wife, sword singing and shield high though he knew not how he could wield them. Cousland ripped and snarled, bit and barked, the demons tore at him too.

Vivienne slung her spells, cast her fire and her lightning before summoning a blade of light from her hand that she used to cut through a swath of them all at once. But for every one that fell three more stood in its place.

They would die here, right now, feet from the end. The press of enemies too thick and too close for them to overcome.

Unless.

She.

_Acted._

Evelyn let muscle memory take over, and the moment she surrendered her conscious mind, the anchor in her hand sparked to life, the green magic flashing so bright it reddened Cullen’s skin like a sunburn.

“Evelyn! No!”

Too late. With a scream and a cry, her energy and magic released in an expanding circle, dissolving and disintegrating, knocking back and knocking down. Every demon caught within the blast was obliterated, and all her friends were knocked out cold.

Leaving only her, with a half-ruined arm and pain unimaginable and one single demon left, recognition sparking in his red rimmed eyes.

“Inquisitor…”  Corypheus beckoned.


	33. Remembrances

Blood dripped behind her with every step. Evelyn rose to her feet and heard a tiny bark, a little whine she hadn’t heard since Cousland was a puppy. Her mabari looked at her now from the ground, trying to crawl to her on exhausted limbs, staggering and falling to the ground with a soft whumph.

“Good boy…” she cooed, moved to tears by her faithful hound. “But you need to stay. Look after them for me okay?”

Cousland whined again.

_Mistress no!_

Smiling, she pet her dog and kissed his head, whispering another goodbye before shocking him with the tiniest, lightest flash from her left hand, putting him into restful easy sleep.

The explosion disorganized them, separated them, the push of the magic pushed them apart and away, scattering them. She passed by Dalish and Skinner, both breathing, both unconscious. She passed by Vivienne reaching for her brother, Samson close by her other hand. They were quiet, but they lived, that mattered.

Dorian found his husband, the blast knocking him flat across the qunari’s chest that rose and fell in shaky but rhythmic breathing. When they woke, they’d be sore.

But they would wake.

She passed by other soldiers, some breathing some not. She passed by the ruined corpses of demons, all dead, thank the Maker for such miracles.

But she didn’t see her husband. Perhaps pinned under a rock, or blown so far away and out of her reach. She knew he lived though, she felt in her heart. She would know if he didn’t.

The old memories faded, giving way to ones more recent. The sound of a voice, of a laugh. The feeling of his kisses and his sighs into her neck. The unbidden reactionary joy of hearing the application beep with a new message.

_Beep_

Evelyn never realized she had her phone in her pocket this entire time. Appcove beeped again, a new message waiting for her.

“Inquisitor…” Corypheus called for her again, summoning her. She ignored him and pulled out her phone.

 **3** New Messages From:

AChantryMan

_I lkde yoy_

_I love you*_

_Did you think I was going to let you go alone?_

Looking up she saw him, leaning on his sword, warm eyes lit with the brightness of his smile.

“Inquisitor!”

The Breach boomed and she buckled to her knees, clutching at her left hand ignoring the pain that shot through her.

Strong hands held her, lifted her back to her feet, wrapped around her waist and walked with her.

“Just a little further Evelyn.”

They burned together like a comet, bright and furious and beautiful. Short as it was, she would not trade her trip around his sun for 100 more years of life without him.

“Turn back!” She pleaded, knowing in her heart this was a one way trip.

“No.” He answered, knowing the same.

If there was a chance, even the slimmest, that she would walk away from this alive, Cullen Rutherford resolved to take it. If there was no chance, then he would go with her, simple as that. He could not remember the truth of the life that came before, snatching only the barest, vaguest glimpses. But he took comfort in the knowledge that whoever he was, wherever and whenever he was, he loved this woman and whoever she was before too.

And if offered the chance, he’d do it again.

And again.

And again.

One thousand times and one thousand times again until the world turned to dust.

“I love you.” His wife said, pulling away to stand on her own.

“And I love you.”

_Beep._

**1** New Message From Andraste’s Favorite Mabari:

_And I always will. No matter what._

The twisted rubble of the Cathedral gave way to a bowl shaped crater, the nucleus of the blast that rocked it. Corypheus stood in the middle, owning and lording over the carnage he wrought.

“Finally, you are come unto me, delivered into my hands for vengeance ages in the making.”

“And I’ma piss you off now like you been pissed off before!”

Red magic crackled, lighting forking from his hands, ripping up the ground, stronger and more destructive than it was ever before. He strengthened in the Fade, for 1100 years he breathed nothing else but vengeance. It seeped into his form, grafting to him like the lyrium that grafted to his skin. Demons and abominations fused to him, spirits of terror, pain, and evil. They made him stronger.

Evelyn and Cullen were but mere humans, with no real powers to speak of.

Save love.

So they fought with love.

Arrow sang and as did sword, crashing and clanging uselessly against flesh harder than diamond. A swipe from Corypheus’s claw tore Cullen’s shield in half, his blade broke against his chest. A fanged hand seized the Commander by the neck and lifted as though the grown man weighed no more than a feather.

“Cullen!” Evelyn halted her arrow assault and closed the distance between her and her Enemy. “Let him go! Let him GO!” She shook at her anchor, willing the magic to spark to life again, but it lay silent. Resting, building, but unable to fire now.

Corypheus laughed and Breach seemed to boom with him.

“Evelyn!” Cullen strangled in the Enemy’s grasp. “Evelyn, stay back love!”

“Watch me Inquisitor! And watch him die!”

His claw tore flesh.

Blood ran.

Warm eyes dulled.

And strong hands faded.

Corypheus tossed Cullen away.

“No!”

She caught him and together they crashed into the stone.

“Cullen!”

The wound bled mortal life from him, but he struggled to speak, hanging on by the barest bit.

“Oh no no no no no! Oh please…no no n—“

A dark rumbling sounded behind her, claws closed around her neck, and she too was lifted in the air.

“You have forgotten yourself Inquisitor. You have become weak, cow eyed, and dull witted. You are nothing like the warrior you were before.”

She remembered his name, but she did not remember his face. She remembered his evil yet did not remember ever stopping it. While he was consumed with nothing else but thoughts of her, she afforded her Enemy the greatest affront: indifference.

“I don’t care who you are or who you think I was. You just killed the love of my life and I’m gonna fucking KILL YOU on that alone!”

Refilled, overfilled with hate, the anchor fired. Pressure, heat, and pain consumed them both in sparks of green light turned star white. Corypheus did not remember her having this power. The anchor before banished him to the Fade, but this was not banishment, this was destruction. He felt his essence rip and dissolve, her magic went wild and tore him apart at his smallest level of composition.

With no time left to even scream.

It was a special kind of torment to watch. Face up from the ground, everything he fought for coming undone. She exploded her anchor, screaming in terrified pain as the magic pulsed, swarmed, and enveloped them both, obliterating Corypheus in a spray of flesh, crystal and blood, leaving her mostly whole, blood and smoke dripping from an arm destroyed from the elbow down.

He cried her name weakly, dying, as the blood leaked the life out of him.

“Evelyn! No! Maker no! Please!”

The explosion rocked the world, rumbling the church further, enveloping everything in a green light that faded to bright blinding white. Above them, the sky mended, the Breach undone by the magic of her hand, leaving her with nothing left, soul drained dry to save to world.

Evelyn fell to her knees, then forward, then face down and lay still.

Though he had no strength left, he still summoned more. The dying soldier pushed himself to his knees and crawled to her with the last of everything. Cullen pulled his wife into his lap, making himself sit up against the jagged rock and bronze gilt stone of a ruined statue of Andraste, her eyes turned down upon the two, sadness in her stony gaze.

“Hey straw head.” She called weakly, tears in her eyes, teeth pink with her blood.

Still and ever the most beautiful creature the Maker ever made.

“Hey yourself,” he smiled weakly back.

“Did we do it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I was supposed to look out for you.”

“We looked out for each other.”

He bent forward as far as his body could, bringing his face as close to hers as he could manage. She shifted, pain lancing through her to meet him in the middle.

They shared a last kiss, just the sweet press of bruised lip to slashed one, not minding this last bit of love was flavored with the metallic sting of blood.

They breathed their last together, hearts and chests rising in sync, bodies fighting death by following the only thing that would give them life. Her hurts numbed, and so did his.

But.

At the last moment, perfect clarity washed over them both. 

And Cullen, buffeted by a knowing joy, started to laugh.

“What’s….so….funny?”

“We met here, sort of. And we forgot the apple donuts again.”

Evelyn smiled. “Bring…. ‘em ….next ‘ime. Don….forget”

“I won’t.”

“Do you ‘memb…?”

“Yes.”

“Short….” Her speech was slurred, cut off and half formed, failing her. But he understood, he could hear her heart better than her words. He always could.

“Its quality not quantity love. You know that. Do you have a favorite? I’m particularly fond of that time when we were pirates. Or that time when you and I were both royalty. Oh! That time when you were my bodyguard and I was a prince. That was fun too.”

“All.” She answered simply.

“Even the first?”

“’special-y.”

Her eyes were closed now, but her lips still held their smile. Cullen held her tighter, letting her know he was still there and she was safe.

“It’s mine too. Despite everything that happened to us that time. It’s how I knew I’d always come back to you. I’ll always hold it special. Well…” He thought, recalling that very first time his soul met hers. “Except your feet, you had really cold feet. You still do.”

She laughed, a short chuckle cut off by a soft wheeze.

Cullen kissed his beloved wife, holding her as close as numbed arms could allow. “I’m going to miss you. Maker, I always miss you.”

Her head dropped.

The smile on her face drooped.

She faded.

“Love ‘ou…so so mu—“ Evelyn fell forward, head resting against his chest.

He laid her head against his neck, kissing her forehead, deciding to sing as his own body seized and quieted for a final time.

He sang, and sang, a favorite song, _their_ song. Over and over, again and again until his voice gave way to quiet.

_“So… he could be the sworn com--anion  
Of the… Maker's Holy Br—“._


	34. Epilogue: No Grave To Hold My Body Down

Saturday Kingsway 23 Transcendence 31:15.

 

<<Look Seth, I don’t care if you think it’s a frivolous waste of time! If it’s just a bunch of ‘wish fulfillment fairy tales’ why are you so damned threatened if I publish?!>>

…

<<Because it’s the truth that’s why!>>

…

<<Yes 2000 plus years of wrong information I can finally set right. Professor Harel already signed off on it. He’s the one who helped me with the research!>>

...

<<I don’t care what you think and I don’t care if you go to the department head...>>

…

<<Oh you sonofabi-- >>

She closed the mindlink with a disgusted sigh, rubbing her arm anxiously. Seth, that bastard colleague of hers, always made her left arm hurt in the same damn way, a tingling burning sensation just below the elbow.

Which was weird considering she was born without a left arm just below the elbow. She willed into existence her light construct prosthetic. It glowed a sweet and pleasing green, conforming to the empty space where the rest of her arm would be, extending and stretching to form a complete and functioning limb capable of manipulation and sensation conduction.

But as she accessed her memory bank, tapping lightly the button at the back of her head, flipping through the day’s messages, she thought better of wearing her arm and willed it away, the construct dissipating as quickly as it had formed, leaving a pleasing tingling sensation where flesh met technimagic.

She felt the buzz of an incoming call and she smiled, accepting the it with a thought.

<<My Dear! >>

Rian’s charming voice filled her ears and her head, spoken as though he were standing right there next to her and not 500 miles away on the Par Vollen islands enjoying a long overdue honeymoon with his husband The Ferric Taurus.

<<Rian! Honeymoon over already?>>

<<Oh no! Of course not. When it’s a corporate sponsored honeymoon they make sure you do so much. So many holos to take—publicity and all that. I was just checking up on my best friend in the nine galaxies. Did you meet your mystery man yet? Did I not tell you the app would work?>>

<<I’m on my way now.>>

<<Oh! I won’t disturb you then, do send a message after you’re done. I want to hear all about it!>>

<<Will do.>>

The mindlink closed and she was alone in her head again until a text message notification popped in front of her eyes. She blinked to accept it.

//I want details! He better be cute!//  
~Ivi

//Btw Leigh says hello//  
~Ivi

//Meeting him now, going dark for a while. Don’t wait up. Tell him I said ‘hi’//

Velyn powered her Connections down, severing herself from the FadeNet. She wanted to meet him with no distractions.

She knew _who_ she was looking for but wasn’t exactly sure _how_ to find him, considering they never met before today, their interactions contained solely on the Lover’s Appcove dating app. With mods and genetic restructuring en vogue, Appcove focused on the person underneath the face, forbidding holograms, pictures, and astral proj-elfies.

As she searched for him, passing by the statue commemorating the sacrifice of the two Heroes of Thedas, she heard a curious sound above the din of the Cathedral bells and the teeming life of a bright, crisp autumn day.

Singing.

* * *

 

He summoned a construct of light made to look like a burning fireball and threw it, his mabari dutifully giving chase, snatching it up with his jaws and bringing it back, stumpy tail wagging, eager for another go-around.

“You’re to dodge not catch! If that were a real fireball, you’d be dead.”

The mabari ginned at him, dopey face cocked to the side, barking, demanding he throw again.

He chuckled and threw the fireball further this time, errant bars of a song catching in his head before coming out of his mouth. A bag of apple donuts sat next to him, warm and waiting for the company he meant to meet today.

“Luc?” A tentative but pleasing voice called, interrupting his singing.

“Ahh…I…Velyn?” He stammered, flustered and embarrassed and completely out of his depth.

He knew he wouldn’t care what she looked like, but he wasn’t expecting…”Maker you’re pretty.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could catch them.

She giggled, and though she really couldn’t flush a color of red that he could see, the adorable way she scrunched that pretty face, hiding it in her shoulder told him all he needed to know.

“May I join you or…”

“Oh! Oh please do it’s just…so good to…finally meet you… _again_.”

“Yes, again…” It wasn’t a question and she wasn’t confused but he still took it that way.

“I mean…oh…can we start over?”

Luc ripped into the bag of apple donuts and shoved one into his mouth, chewing furiously, eager to keep his trap occupied lest he embarrass himself again. He sheepishly offered her one, realizing his abominable manners entirely too late.

“You remembered the donuts.” She giggled with a happy sigh, bringing one to her mouth before a whining noise interrupted her.

“And who is this handsome boy?”

“Cousland shoo! Shoo! You can’t have her donut.”

“You named him Cousland? After the Hero Hound of Thedas?”

“The very same.”

Luc melted when he watched her bite her donut in half, offering the uneaten portion to his dog.

Her heart raced, tripped, stumbled, fell over, stopped, and restarted again. He was…gorgeous, and more than that, he was everything she wanted and wished he’d be.

A surprisingly short list consisting of only two criteria:

Warm eyes.

Strong hands.

She checked those mental boxes, literally, marking them off with a surreptitious flick of her eyelashes.

He reached to hold her hand, desperate to touch her and ensure she was real, but found he reached for air.

“Oh…I uh…I can summon a…”

Luc simply rose, walked around her and grabbed her right hand.

“No need.” He said.

They sat chewing on the promised apple donuts. After months of long conversations, laughing, sighing, crying, and sometimes moaning the two were at an utter loss of what to say yet strangely comfortable in the silence.

“I have a question,” Luc said, swallowing the last donut to Cousland’s unhappy chuff.

“Sure.” She ran a thumb over the skin of one of his strong hands, inordinately pleased. Inordinately happy. Inordinately _fulfilled_ for the first time in a _long_ time.

“Did you have to ask a lot of people looking for me? I realize I forgot to tell you what I looked like.”

Velyn thought about it, realizing that for whatever reason the answer was simple.

“Nah, it didn’t matter. Somehow I knew I’d find you.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words through this ride. I am very glad you enjoyed it, I am gladder (not a word) if I made you feel some type of way about it. Please, if you have questions, wanna comment, or wanna come shout at me, my inbox and anon asks are always open. I’m interested in hearing your thoughts. Thanks again! Yes I know I’ve used this title as the title of another epilogue, no I don’t care, fits too well.
> 
> Ash


End file.
